To New Beginnings
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Hermione returns a year after the war, and begins to put her life back together with the help of some new friends.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all! New story! I still own nothing. I do have a birthday coming up though, ya know, if you need gift ideas.

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Chapter 1

The war had been over for a year, and Hermione Granger had only just returned. The year had been spent dodging reporters, attempting to locate her parents, and failing to cope with the long term effects of battle. It wasn't just memories she relived day after day, but the physical pains that lingered from the curses cast. She knew so many who suffered worse fates, and knew she shouldn't dwell on her own experience. Sitting alone in the cemetery, she was reminded that she was still here while so many were gone.

Her finger traced first the F, then moved to the lowercase r, e, and d. Fred Weasley. He had died in the final battle, fighting valiantly alongside his older brother, Percy. The redheaded prankster had died with a smile on lips, one Hermione wished she could see just one more time.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Hermione turned, startled by the voice. It was a soft, cool drawl that was all too familiar. "Malfoy," she remarked. "What are you doing here? Looking for a way to bring back your master?"

Draco Malfoy scoffed and stood behind her. "Trust me, I'm just as happy that he's gone as you are," he replied.

"Then why are you here?" she asked angrily, turning to face him. "And why are you talking to me?"

Sitting down, he shrugged. "Who else am I going to talk to?" he wondered. "Everyone here is dead. Professor Snape is buried a few rows over. As far as I know, no one else ever visits his grave. It's usually overrun with weeds, or people throw trash on it. Do you know what I found today? Butterbeer bottles and crisp packages. Every couple of weeks I come by and clean it up. It's not much, but it's all can do for the man who saved my life. When did you get back?"

Hermione stared at him with wide brown eyes. "How did you know I was away?" she wondered.

Malfoy smirked. "Because Granger Watch has been a thing for the past 365 days," he replied, though she didn't believe him. From his bag, he tossed her the latest edition of _The Daily Prophet_. "You think I'm kidding?"

"No, I believed you," she muttered, as she scanned the front page. She had been back in England only hours, and Draco Malfoy was the only one who knew she had returned. "Guess you can make the announcement that Granger Watch can end."

He stared at the headstone. "Why?" he wondered. "Wouldn't you rather have your privacy?"

"_You_ care what I want?" she asked skeptically.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his platinum blond locks and stared at the full moon. While the wizarding world wondered where Hermione Granger was, they kept themselves busy with stories about Draco and his family. They documented his prison time, the trial, his father's arraignment, who Draco was seen with, who his mother replaced his absent father with. He wished he could have disappeared as Hermione had.

"I know what it's like to be hounded by reporters," he told her. "So, what's Australia like?"

Hermione gathered her belongings and stood. "We're not friends, Malfoy," she stated. "Don't act like we are."

"I wasn't," he called after her. Not comfortable being alone in a graveyard, Draco got to his feet to leave. It wasn't until he reached the last row of headstones that he saw Hermione again. Her back was to him and her head was cradled in her hands. "Granger?"

Sniffling, she wiped her eyes and turned to face him, doing her best to glare. "What?" she asked. "Do you want to make fun of me? Tease me for crying? I'm so tired of crying, Malfoy. Can't you just let me do this in private?"

"I'm sorry," he murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with crying over this. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've cried here plenty of times too. I'll leave you alone."

She watched him walk away. "I wasn't here," she said. Draco stopped and turned around to face her, quietly waiting for her to continue. "The second the fight was over, I was gone. I wasn't here when Fred and Tonks and Remus were buried. I wasn't here while my friends were grieving. Instead I went to Australia to find my parents. Harry and Ron would send me letters. They started out nicely - updates on friends who were hurt and the rebuilding efforts. After a few months, the letters from Ron got more and more angry. He told me he hated me for missing Fred's funeral, and said he never wanted to talk to me again. Harry stopped writing soon after that too."

Draco scoffed. "Those two," he muttered.

"Do you want to hear the worst part?" she said. "I found them. They were in Perth, and they looked so happy. They were happy without their memories of their trouble-making, freak of a daughter. They didn't have to lie about where I was or what I was doing. They didn't have to worry that something was going to happen to me. So, I just left them. They're Monica and Wendell Wilkins now, and they're happy. They don't know I exist, and they're finally happy. I'm alone, Malfoy, and it's my own fault."

Stepping closer, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You're not alone, Granger," he promised.

"What? You're going to be my friend?" she asked incredulously.

Draco shrugged. "Why not?" he wondered. "You don't want to be alone. I am alone. I don't know. This seems like a good opportunity for the both of us to realize that we aren't the people we thought we were."

"So you're not an arrogant, racist, Pureblood git?" she inquired.

"That depends. Are you not a know-it-all bookworm who's never wrong?" he retorted.

Despite the tears that still clung to her lashes, Hermione smiled. "That's exactly what I am," she replied.

"I'm not racist," he told her. "The other three adjectives are mostly correct though. I'm working on it, Granger."

"You really believe that we could friends?" she asked, recalling the times he called her a mudblood and sent hexes her way. Her tongue touched her two front teeth. Madam Pomphrey had had to reduce their size when Malfoy had hit her with an enlarging jinx their fourth year.

Draco shrugged. "I think we could give it a shot."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The rain was the perfect cover for Hermione to walk through Diagon Alley without being noticed. It had been more than a year since she last walked those worn cobblestones and glanced in the shop windows. Much had changed since her last visit. The old shops were open and teeming with customers. Passersby smiled despite the weather. The threat that once hung over their heads, the threat placed their by Lord Voldemort, was gone. Hermione wished she could smile like they did, but couldn't find even a small ounce of happiness in her heart. Yes, she was alive, but the cost of her survival had been much too high.

The large animatronic Weasley head outside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stopped Hermione in her tracks. Her heart ached with thoughts of Fred and George, whose life goal it was to open the joke shop. She entered the shop, keeping her hood on, and wandered the aisles. The products the twins concocted were nothing short of genius. Hermione was often awed by them despite her penchant for reprimanding them for using them on fellow students.

Nearing the checkout counter, she spotted George, dressed in magenta robes and his long red hair hanging in his eyes. She finally removed the hood of her cloak and attempted to smile. "Hi, George," she greeted him.

George Weasley let out a deep breath, rounded the counter, and hugged her. "It's been too long," he whispered in her ear, tightening his hold on her. "Too, too long."

"I'm back now," she promised.

George nodded as he pulled away. "Good," he murmured. Draping his arm around her shoulder, he led her into the back. "Does my family know you're back?"

Frowning, Hermione shook her head. "No, and from what I've gathered from Ronald's letters, they're not going to want to see me," she replied.

But George disagreed. "Don't listen to him," he said. "Ron doesn't know the whole story. Believe me, no one is mad at you for missing the funeral. If I can be completely honest with you, I didn't go either. It was too hard to bury Fred. I know I have to live the rest of my life without him. I didn't need to see my best friend's body get put in the ground."

Hermione held his hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

George shrugged as he tried to smile. "You loved him too," he said.

Hermione nodded in agreement. It was a love no one knew about, no one but the twins. Fred and Hermione had kept it a secret since her fourth year. It started after the Yule Ball. They'd both gone with different people, but Ron had ruined her evening and Fred's date had disappeared with someone else. He found her seated on the stairs, crying. Sitting down beside her, he placed an arm around her shoulders. They sat there together, neither saying a word. When she had expended her tears, he walked her to Gryffindor Tower, and they said good night. Their friendship bloomed from then on. He let her complain when his brother mistreated her, ignored her, and angered her. The day the twins left Hogwarts for good, Fred kissed her. Until the war began, they carried on a clandestine relationship. Before the horcrux hunt began, Hermione decided to end things. She hadn't realized then that their relationship was over forever.

"I miss him," Hermione admitted. "I'm sorry. Is that a bit of an understatement?"

George chuckled. "Yeah, it is," he agreed. "It's okay though. You know, this is the most I've talked about him in a year. Mum cries at the slightest mention of his name, and Dad pretends that Fred's just going to walk through the door any day now. My siblings all walk around on eggshells around me, like I'll go crazy if they mention Fred's name."

"Would you?" she wondered.

Sighing, he shrugged. "I don't know," he confessed. "He was their brother too. It's not fair for me to act like I'm the only one who lost him."

"You're not," she assured him. "Um, I should go. I'm meeting a...someone for lunch. I promise to stop by again soon though."

George nodded. "Before you go, can I show you something?" Hermione agreed, and he led her upstairs to the flat he shared with his brother. They walked to the back, and he opened the door to a messy bedroom. "It's taken me awhile, but I'm finally able to come in here again. Where are you staying now that you're back?"

"My parents' house," she told him. "It's lonely and empty and far too quiet."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he replied. "It's yours, if you want it. It's lonely and empty and quiet here too. I could really use some company, if you're up for it."

Hermione took in the room. The bed was unmade, Fred's clothes littered the floor, and books remained unshelved. "I think it's perfect," she decided. "I can have my stuff packed tonight."

"Good," he replied. "Okay, go to lunch. I'll see you later."

She left then, returning to the square. The joke shop was a short walk from The Leaky Cauldron, where she promised to meet Draco at half past noon. "Why do you look like you're going to cry?" he asked when she sat down. Hermione shrugged and picked up a menu to hide her face. "So, um, how was your day?"

"Fine," she mumbled.

"Is something on your mind?" he wondered. "Ashamed to be seen with me in public?"

She put down the menu. "Not at all," she replied. "I promise, it has nothing to do with you. My mind is just a bit...preoccupied. Get my mind off of it. Tell me what's going on with you."

"Just working off my community service requirements," he shared. "Today I scrubbed vials and beakers at St. Mungo's the muggle way. I can't say for certain, but I think it's the Ministry's goal to humiliate me. Last week, I was assigned to trash pickup in Hogsmeade. It's just so-"

"Beneath you?" she guessed.

Draco laughed. "Exactly," he replied. "See, you get me, Granger. So, um, I hate to be the one to bring this up, but have you seen the paper today?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Is there something I should see?"

Nodding, he pulled _The Daily Prophet_ from his bag and slid it across the table. "Potter and Weasley know you're back, and they don't seem happy about it."


	3. Chapter 3

Today's my birthday. For the last week my dad's been trying to convince me that I'm 30. I swear, until I checked my birth certificate, I was starting to believe him.

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Chapter 3

Hermione sat in her new room, surrounded by Fred's belongings. She couldn't bring herself to straighten up the room or get rid of his things. Her clothes and books remained boxed in the corner, too distracted by the newspaper article that interviewed her two best friends. Neither boy was happy that she had returned, and Ron had been quoted as saying he wished she had stayed in Australia. She'd read the article over and over, stewing with anger. It hurt, not only that they thought she had betrayed their friendship, but that they had gone to the newspaper to talk about it.

George entered the room, standing in the doorway. "How many times are you going to read that?" he asked, holding up a beer bottle in offering.

"I thought you said they didn't hate me," she retorted, leaving the bed to accept the beverage.

He shrugged. "I told you the _family_ doesn't hate you," he corrected her. "I never said Ron and Harry were glad that you're back. Although, I haven't actually talked to either one of them about it. It seemed like a good idea to keep you living here a secret."

"I appreciate it, but you don't have to," she told him. "I'm not ready for anyone to know about Fred and me, but they can know that I live here."

"So, don't tell them about the time you spent here back when Fred-"

Hermione punched his arm and sat down on the bed. "There's something else I've done," she started, taking a long sip of her drink. "Something I'm sure they won't be happy about."

"You have a secret love child with an aboriginal tribesman, don't you," George guessed.

Hermione chuckled mirthlessly. "God, no. That would be so much better," she muttered. "No, I, uh, I befriended Draco Malfoy."

George let out a soft whistle. "Wow, Malfoy," he replied, shaking his head disappointedly. "How dare you. More importantly, how'd you pull that off? I thought he hated you."

"I guess he doesn't," she said. "At least, not anymore. He's the one who wanted to be friends."

"Think it's a trick?" George asked, sitting down beside her.

Hermione gave the question little thought. "No, I don't," she replied. "He seems pretty alone. I think he'll take any friend he can get. We really aren't so different."

"Hey, you've still got me," he told her, looping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere. In fact, to prove it to you, I may consent to allowing Malfoy in our home. I can give him a chance if he's changed like you say he has."

She smiled and patted his thigh. "Thanks, George," she replied, kissing his cheek. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed, looking at Fred's mess. "What do you think he would have thought of Malfoy and me being friends?"

George shrugged the opposite shoulder. "I think he would want you to be happy," he decided. "That's all Fred wanted. When the two of you broke up and you left, all he talked about was you. It drove him crazy that he couldn't get in touch with you. I don't think he ever loved anyone as much as he loved you."

Lifting her head, Hermione sat up straight. "I was horrible to him," she confessed. "He didn't think we should break up. In fact, he wanted to tell everyone about us. I knew I had to leave though. I promised Harry I would help him. Ending things with Fred seemed like the right thing to do. I thought once the war was over, we could be together again."

"I'm sorry you didn't get your second chance," George replied. "At least you've managed to get Ronniekins off your back though. You have no idea how it made Fred's blood boil when he would talk about how much he liked you."

"Maybe I should have let him tell everyone," Hermione said regretfully. "Then he would have known how much I love him."

George gave one of her curls a gentle tug. "He knew," he assured her. "Trust me, Hermione. He knew that you loved him. Don't ever doubt that."

Nodding, Hermione finished her beer. "Yeah, well...not much of a difference it makes now," she muttered, standing up. "They're both gone, aren't they."

"Fred might be, but Ron's still here. There's still time to make things right with him and Harry," George promised. "They're both stubborn, but so are you. I know that if you really want to work things out with them, you will."

"Just because I do, doesn't mean they will," she cautioned. "I'm not going to get my hopes up for some grand reconciliation."

"Hey, you're friends with Malfoy. Anything's possible," George replied with a smile. "Why don't you call Malfoy, invite him over. You can teach the both of us how to use that telly thing you brought. As usual, you can be the smartest person in the room."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and tried not to smirk. "You really think you and Malfoy can go the whole evening without fighting?" she asked.

George shrugged as he inched closer to the door. "Who said we wouldn't fight?" he replied. "I need to know his intentions. There's no way that conversation ever goes smoothly."

"It could just not happen at all," she suggested, following him out of the room.

Laughing, he sat down on the old, hand-me-down sofa his mother had given them when the twins first moved into their flat. "We both know that can't happen," he said as seriously as he could. "I need to know that he's good enough for you. Because you live here now. That means your friends will become my friends, and my friends will be yours. Think of the harmony, Granger."

Rolling her eyes, she kneeled in front of the fireplace, tossed in a handful of floo powder, and called Draco's bedroom. He welcomed the invitation, glad to not have to spend the evening at home with his mother. Five minutes later, he stepped through and stopped.

"You remember George, don't you?" Hermione asked, hoping she sounded light and cheerful rather than terrified of the duel that was about to come.

Draco nodded. "Are you luring me to my death?" he inquired.

George chuckled and rose, extending his hand to the younger man. "Just the opposite," he assured him. "Well, unless you go downstairs. That place could be a deathtrap. Hermione's lived here six hours, and she's already chastised me eleven times for the messiness in the workshop."

"The two of you are roommates?" Draco asked, genuinely perplexed. "I thought the Weasleys hated you."

George frowned. "Not all of us," he said, looking at Hermione. "Ron's issues are his own."

"Break up didn't go as you hoped?" Draco joked, taking a seat on the sofa. Hermione blanched, especially when George looked quizzically at her. "It's why you left, isn't it? Rita Skeeter, about a week after you disappeared, did an article about how you dumped him and broke poor Ron's heart. Someone, I don't remember who, was quoted that the two of you kissed during the final battle. Seems like a silly time to do something like that."

Hermione sat down to hide the fact that her legs shook. "He kissed me," she whispered. Then, she cleared her throat and spoke up. "It was that blasted cup. I destroyed the horcrux, and he was just so excited. He kissed me. I didn't want him to, and it didn't last long. After that, I don't know. Did he read something into it? Did he really think we were together?"

George scowled and walked out of the room. "I'm sorry," Draco murmured. "I didn't realize he'd get mad."

Hermione shook her head. "He's mad at me, not you," she replied.

"For what?" Draco wondered.

Sighing, she left the room, mumbling, "Long story." She entered George's room and leaned against the now closed door. "I'm sorry."

He looked up from the pile of socks he was folding. "Don't be. I didn't know that happened," he replied. "I mean, Ron talked about how you were his girlfriend while you were away, but I didn't think much of it. I thought it was just him talking. Who knew there was a reason for him to think that."

"I was never his girlfriend, nor do I ever intend to be," she assured him. "The only Weasley I've ever loved is gone."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"I talked to Profess...sorry, Headmistress McGonagall today," Hermione said as she sat down beside Draco at the bar. They had once again made plans to meet for lunch, but the Leaky Cauldron was packed, leaving only the bar available.

"What about?" Draco wondered, swirling the firewhiskey around his glass.

Hermione ordered a butterbeer. "Taking my N.E.W.T.s," she replied.

Frowning, he finished his drink and ordered another. "So, what? You're going back to school now?" he asked.

She accepted her drink from the barkeep and took a long sip. "No," she said. "I, uh... too much happened there. She said I could do a correspondence course. We made arrangements for me to do my assignments from home and send them back, and in May I'll take the tests. I'll work in the joke shop until then."

"And then what?"

Hermione shrugged. "No idea," she admitted. "I guess the N.E.W.T.s are supposed to prepare you for a Ministry job, but I don't know that I want to work with Harry and Ron."

Draco ordered another drink and picked up a menu. "There's more to do there than be an Auror," he reminded her. "You had that spew thing in school. You could campaign for house elf freedom, even though they don't want to be liberated."

"What is it you do?" she asked, taking the menu from him.

"I live off my family's money," he muttered bitterly. "I guess I should be taking over the family business. I have zero interest in whatever they do though. Investing, consulting, I don't even know what they do."

She ordered a plate of fish and chips to split with him. "You could take your N.E.W.T.s too," she suggested. "We could study for them together."

Draco shrugged, but told her he would think about it. They sat in silence until their lunch arrived, and distracted themselves by eating. "Have you talked to them?" he asked when they finished. Hermione shook her head. "Are you going to?"

Sighing, she pushed the plate away. "I don't know," she replied. "I understand that Ron was hurt that I was gone so long, but Harry? I thought he might understand my need to find my parents. It's not surprising he would take Ron's side, but that doesn't make it hurt any less."

Draco scoffed. "Some friend he is," he replied, not caring if she took offense. "Without you, does Potter really think he'd be alive right now? He's an idiot. There's no way he's survived this long without you saving his arse at every turn. And now because Weasley's mad at you, he just jumps on the bandwagon? It's ridiculous, Hermione."

She stared at him, wide eyed, as he finished his tirade. "I didn't think this would bother you so much," she commented, finishing the last of her drink.

"It doesn't," he said, ordering another round. "The two of them just make me mad."

"Because of the way they treat me?" she guessed.

Draco shook his head halfheartedly. "I don't know. Maybe," he decided. "I thought Gryffindors valued loyalty above all else. Shouldn't seven years of friendship mean something to them? My friends were more supportive than they are. After the war, when I was sitting in Azkaban, at least once a week, Pansy and Blaise came to see me. They've never held it against me that I've missed things. Even when I couldn't get out of bed in the morning because the nightmares kept me awake all night, Pansy would come over with food or just sit with me. _That's_ what friends do, Granger. They don't turn their backs on you because they've managed to figure out another way to handle their grief."

There were tears in her eyes when he finished, and he immediately apologized. "No, don't be," she replied, wiping her eyes. "I never thought I'd be jealous of you."

Sighing, he shook his head. "That wasn't my intention," he muttered. "I just...it took me a long time to realize that I had friends, friends who actually cared about me. You seemed to have that so long ago, and back in school, I was jealous of you for it. It just isn't right that this is the way things have turned out."

Hermione stared into her empty glass. "Maybe everything will work out," she hoped. "We've fought before and made up. Maybe it'll happen again."

"You weren't friends with me back then," he reminded her. "Imagine how much they'll hate that. First you disappear for a year, no word to anyone, and then you come home and befriend me. They'll probably demand you be incarcerated in the mental health ward."

Hermione chuckled. "I'll take the bed next to Lockhart," she added.

Draco groaned. "You don't still fancy him, do you?" he asked.

She shrugged as he signalled for two more drinks, switching his own order to butterbeer. "He may be a fraud with no memory who was taken down by a 12 year old, but he's still handsome," she stated.

"Maybe you should be committed to the psych ward," he decided.

"I'm taking you with me then," she replied. "It was your idea to be friends. Obviously something was knocked loose the last time you fell off your broom."

He placed a few coins on the bar top and dismounted the stool. Hermione followed, and soon they were outside. Draco breathed in the late spring air and sighed. "Maybe I was crazy before, and I've only just now come to my senses," he suggested. "Talking to you, spending time with you, I can't remember why I hated you all those years."

"My blood," she reminded him somberly.

Nodding, he sat down on a nearby bench. "Right," he murmured. "You know I don't feel that way anymore, don't you?"

She took a seat beside him. "I know," she assured him. "I think I've known for awhile."

"The Manor," he told her. "That's when I really realized it. It started before then, but seeing you there, knowing exactly who the three of you were. I hated myself for not helping you, for not doing _something_. I'm not looking for forgiveness, Hermione. I don't deserve it. I just don't want this to hang between us. Be the...what is it the muggles say? Elephant in the room?"

Hermione placed her hand over his. "Too bad. You have it anyway," she promised with a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Can I mini rant about the fact that it snowed and didn't stick? Useless snow is the worst kind of snow there is. Okay, rant over. See, that wasn't so bad!

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Chapter 5

"Let's talk," George said seriously as he placed a bag of Chinese takeaway on the kitchen table.

Hermione set two plates and silverware on the table. "About what?" she wondered.

George began to unpack the small, white containers, and opened them. "About why you're not sleeping in your room," he said. "I've found you on the couch every morning for the last week. Is something wrong with your room?"

"No," she mumbled. Sitting down across from him, she could feel George's blue eyes on her. "It's just...it's not _my_ room. It's Fred's. I feel him there, and it makes me miss him even more. Sometimes it just hurts to be in there."

Reaching across the small table, he held her hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't think about that. Maybe if we clean it up, move his things into storage, it'll make it easier to make the room yours. It probably doesn't help that the room is dominated by his belongings."

"It's not that. I like having some of his things around," she replied. "It lets me hold onto a little piece of him. But maybe you're right. Maybe it's time to clean the room out."

"Maybe you'll sleep better," he suggested. "You look exhausted. Not running yourself ragged with coursework, are you?"

Hermione pulled her hand away and frowned. "No more than usual," she said. "Anyhow, the work is a good distraction."

George nodded knowingly. "Why do you think we've had a 80 percent increase in sales," he commented. "When I can't sleep, I'm creating new products. And my gods, won't some people just buy anything because it's got the Weasley name on it!"

Hermione laughed as she doled food onto her plate. During her year away, she had missed this. Her relationship with Fred had brought George and her closer, and she often sought him out when Fred was occupied. Despite their humorous natures, the twins were intelligent and held a conversation better than anyone else she knew. While Harry and Ron could spend hours discussing Quidditch, Hermione often found herself talking to the twins about potions and charms, and events that occurred away from the pitch. At the end of the day, though, they could always make her laugh, and that was something she needed.

"I missed that sound," George remarked as he helped himself to dinner. She blushed and lowered her head. Deciding he'd embarrassed her, he changed the subject. "So, what does Malfoy do all day?"

Hermione shrugged. "Same as me, I think," she replied, poking a piece of broccoli with her fork. "I talked him into taking the N.E.W.T.s, but he usually studies on his own. Why? What's up your sleeve?"

He checked his right, then his left sleeve, and frowned. "Nothing," he replied as seriously as a Weasley twin could. "What makes you think there's something up there?"

"Because I know you, George," she replied with a grin. "There's always something."

George shrugged and settled back in his seat. "I was thinking of expanding," he stated. "Before the war, Freddie and I talked about opening a shop in Hogsmeade when we had the money. I'm not there yet, but I need a new project. I was thinking, now that he and I are...not enemies, maybe he'd like to invest some of that Malfoy money in a new business. Plus, I open a second shop, it's yours to run. Think of the words you could use running your own business - fiscal and fiduciary."

Hermione laughed again. "Do you even know what fiduciary means?" she wondered.

He shook his head. "No, but you do," he replied. "Think Malfoy would want to do it?"

She helped herself to seconds. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I think he wants to distance himself from his family as much as he can without changing his name. It might not be such a bad thing to make this investment. Plus, it could be good publicity for him. Sort of a win/win situation for you both."

"Win/win/_win_," he reminded her. "I mean it. The second shop is yours, if you want it. And not to guilt you into it or anything, but Fred once said that he wanted a second shop that he could run with you. Knew you'd be brilliant at it."

"Well, how can I say no now?" she wondered.

George shrugged and rose from the table to put his plate in the sink. He let the water run over it for a few seconds before shutting off the tap. "I don't know. I just figured it would be better than Ministry life," he said, stuffing his wet hands in his pants pockets as he leaned back against the counter. "With Harry and Ron there, I guess this is just an alternative. Unless you lot make up before then. Hey, maybe Malfoy can run it."

Hermione grinned and came to stand beside him, copying his posture. "Giving away my store already?" she inquired. "Also, you realize the counter is wet, and now our backs are too, don't you?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry I pulled the 'Fred' card," he muttered. "The second store had always been his idea. I guess I'm only doing it for him."

"George, I want to do it," she told him. "If you're willing to help me, show me the ropes, I want to do it. And it's not just for Fred. It feels right."

The corner of his mouth twitched up. "So, you'll talk to Malfoy then?" he asked. Sighing, she pushed away from the counter and entered the living room. He heard her call out for Draco's bedroom. "Wait, you're doing it now?"

Draco's head appeared in the fire. "Did you want me to wait?" she asked George before returning her attention to her call. "Can you come through? I have something I want to ask."

"Sure, I'll be right over," he replied, disconnecting the call. George stared at her with impressed bewilderment. Draco stepped out of the fireplace and tugged one of Hermione's curls. "What's going on?"

Hermione offered him a seat and smiled. "George has a business proposal for you," she stated. "One I think you'll be interested in."

Draco looked at her curiously, but asked only one question. "Are you involved in this?"

"I am," she confirmed.

He shrugged and let out a deep breath. "Then I'm in too," he decided. "What do you need?"

The pair exchanged a smile before George explained his plan.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ron Weasley entered his brother's shop. Since her return, _The Daily Prophet_ had documented Hermione's every move, including her friendship with Draco Malfoy. In all that time, she hadn't come to talk to him or Harry. But today, he decided, she would.

"No, out," George said as soon as he spotted him.

Startled, Ron stared at his older brother. "What? Why?" he asked.

"Because I know why you're here, and you're not bothering her," George stated, his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed. "If you have nothing nice to say to her, stay away."

Ron nodded. "I promise I won't hurt her," he swore.

George seemed reluctant, but allowed him to go upstairs to the flat above the shop. He refused to let his younger brother out of his sight, escorting him inside and not allowing him to go further than the living room. Hermione's bedroom door was shut, but he could hear two voices on the other side. Now was not the time for her to have Draco in her room.

"You have a visitor," he informed her, opening the door wide enough for only his head to fit through. "You, uh, you'll never believe who it is."

Hermione set down her quill and book. "I'm guessing it's either Harry or Ron," she stated. "Which one is it?"

When he told her who it was, she returned to her work. "Just finishing up and then you'll be out to talk to him?" George guessed. Hermione shook her head and asked Draco for his answer to the third Arithmancy problem. "What do you want me to tell him?"

"To go home?" she suggested. "I'm sorry, George, but I'm busy."

George gave in and began to close the door. "I thought you wanted them to forgive you," he heard Draco say. "You said you wanted to patch things up."

"Stay out of it," she mumbled, returning to her work.

Though George left, Draco refused to let the matter go. "Why don't you want to talk to him?" he wondered. "Weasley, and I hate myself for sticking up for him, made the effort to come here to see you. Obviously he's trying to put aside what happened. Why won't you?"

"And what makes you think he's here to do that?" she inquired, slamming her book shut angrily. "What makes you think he's here to say that all's forgiven and he wants to be best friends again?"

Draco sighed. "Because George wouldn't have let him up if that wasn't the reason," he stated as he began to pack up his books.

Hermione watched him walk towards the door. "You're leaving because of this?" she asked, feeling guilty that she had driven him away.

Doubling back, he leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. "I just have to go," he told her, his voice soft. "Talk to Weasley though. The longer you delay it, the harder it'll be to finally do it."

"Will you stay though?" she asked. "I don't think I can do this alone. And if he's not here to make up, and he plans to kill me, I'd like to have a witness."

Chuckling, he shook his head. "Sorry, I don't think I'm the right person for that job," he replied. "George maybe? They're family, after all. I'll make sure he stays with you."

She whispered her thanks as he left the room. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and left for the living room. Ron sat forward, hands folded in his lap. His cheeks were red with nervous anticipation. When she cleared her throat, he looked up and attempted to smile. "Mione, hi."

She returned his greeting with a terse hello. "Why are you here?" she wondered.

"To talk," he replied. "I, um, I know I said a lot of horrible things to you. My brother has made it pretty clear that I was wrong, and I wanted to apologize."

The purse-lipped scowl Hermione wore deepened. "You needed someone to tell you that?" she asked with a scoff. "It never occurred to you that reaming me out in several letters, letters that culminated in the end of our friendship per your request, might not be the way to treat a friend who had lost just as much as you had? Did you ever think to ask why I didn't come home sooner? Should I tell you about finding my parents? About how I sat in cafes, watching them be happy, knowing that not knowing me was the reason for it? Can you understand at all that you're not the only one who's suffered this last year?"

Ron's cheeks darkened with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "You had a family here," he told her. "I know how important your parents are to you, but we..._I_ needed you here. I thought we were together, and it hurt that you ignored me."

Sighing, Hermione sat down near him. "We weren't together," she murmured. "I didn't even think we were until George mentioned it a few weeks ago. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, and I'm sorry that I didn't write more. There were circumstances and things I'm not yet ready to discuss, and I just needed to not be here after the war. I lost people I love too. Sometimes, for me, it's easier to retreat than face the pain."

Ron nodded, understanding how she felt. "I'm sorry for the way I acted," he said.

"What about the things you told the paper?" she wondered. "About how you wished I hadn't come back."

"I'm sorry for that as well," he replied. "You know me, Mione. Sometimes my anger gets the better of me. I had a year to stew in it, and I didn't think about what I was saying when I was saying it. I'm glad you're home. Although, your new choice of friends and living situation is a bit confusing."

Hermione shot him a look that told him to mind his words. "George and I are friends, and neither one of us wanted to live alone. Your brother is one of the few people who seems happy that I'm back. Draco was there when I needed a friend, and he's been good to me. Believe me, I haven't forgotten how he treated me in school, but he's grown up."

"He's really been good to you?" Ron asked. "It's not some secret ploy to regain his family's status or lull you into a false sense of security in order to hurt you later on?"

"I don't think it is," she replied, brows furrowing with uncertainty.

The front door opened and George appeared. "Sorry, I couldn't get away until now. Although I thought I told you to go home," he said. "No bloodshed. That's a good sign."

Ron nodded and rose from the sofa. "I should get going," he decided. "Mione, thanks for talking to me. I'll see you soon, I hope."

Hermione smiled softly as he stepped into the fireplace. "I'll see you soon."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"So, am I out?" Draco asked when he came over for dinner later that night. Hermione frowned when he sat down. "Did you and Weasley make up?"

"We did. I think," she replied. "Why would you think you're out? Out of what?"

Draco shrugged as he sat down. "Your life," he mumbled. "I'm sure Weasley doesn't want you to be friends with me."

She set a glass pan on the table and took a seat next to him. "Draco, you have nothing to worry about," she promised. "Ron and I...I don't know that we're friends. What I do know is that when I needed a friend, _you_ were there. No questions asked. The nights I haven't been able to sleep, who is it that lets me call at three in the morning? Who's been by my side, studying for the tests, putting up with my craziness? _You_. You've been my friend. I'm not going to dump you because Ron decided he wants to be friends again."

Draco nodded and began to cut into the baked ziti. "Sorry. I didn't mean to question you," he said. "I just wanted to make sure that we're okay."

Hermione smiled as he filled her plate. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Malfoy," she replied. "Face it, you're stuck with me now."

"I'll take it," he replied as George joined them.

George scoffed as he helped himself to dinner. "So, I'm the only one who isn't okay with Ron's little apology?" he asked. "I'm not happy you've forgiven him either, Hermione. He trashes you in public, _in print_, and you decide that you'll be his friend again? You really don't see anything wrong with that?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm tired of having enemies," she told him. "I'm not inviting him over for slumber parties, but I'm not going to go out of my way to be awful to him. And I haven't forgiven him. The things he said hurt. I'm not denying that. I just don't want to fight anymore. I've done enough of that to last the rest of my life."

George scowled. "Still, you didn't have to forgive him so quickly," he muttered.

"Being nice and being forgiving aren't the same thing," she pointed out. "He can apologize until he's blue in the face. It doesn't mean I'll forgive and forget. Can we just not talk about this now? I'm hungry, and this conversation is distracting me from my dinner."

George let it go temporarily, but she knew round two wasn't far away. They finished dinner in silence before moving to the sofa. George turned on the television and began to flip through the limited channels they managed to get. The volume was loud to discourage conversation, but Draco still managed it.

"He's mad," he said, pointing out the obvious. Hermione nodded before resting her head on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied unconvincingly. "I hate when he's mad at me though."

He gave her knee a gentle squeeze. "It won't last long," he promised. "You know it never does."

"Watch those hands, Malfoy," George warned, glaring at him from the corner of his eye. Draco quickly moved his hands to his own lap. And there his hands stayed until he left for the night. "What's going on with the two of you?" he wondered when he and Hermione were alone.

She shrugged and began to walk towards her bedroom. "Nothing. We're friends," she replied. "Why? What are you afraid is happening?"

George stood in her doorway as she gathered her pajamas. "Do you have feelings for him?" he inquired.

Sighing, she placed her clothes on the bed. "No, George, I don't," she told him. "It is nice to have someone care about me though. I miss being hugged and held. I miss the things I got to do with Fred. I'm not saying I'm looking to snog Malfoy or anything, but...I don't know. He pays attention to me the way Fred used to. It's just nice to think that someone wants to hold my hand."

Snorting, he shook his head. "Guys have much more on their minds than holding hands. Believe me," he replied. "I know he's been a good friend to you, but you know I worry about you."

"Yeah, you do," she replied with a smile. "I'll be okay, George. Really. Eventually, I'll be fine again."

Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "That's all I want," he murmured before letting her go. "Get ready for bed. I'll be in my room if you need me."

Nodding, she waited for the door to close before changing. She sat down at the foot of the bed and stared at the now clean room. All that remained of Fred's belongings were an old jumper hung on the back of the desk chair and a framed photo of him and Hermione taken during their last Christmas together. There were nights when she could stare at the picture for hours. She would smile when Fred tugged her hair, knowing that his other hand rested on her back. It was their customary display of affection in public - tender, but not obvious. Then there were times when looking at it only caused pain and brought tears to her eyes. Tonight was one of those nights.

Quietly, she slipped out of the room after turning the frame around. George's door was shut, but she could hear the radio. The volume was just loud enough that he wouldn't hear her. Sitting down in front of the fireplace, she tossed in a handful of floo powder. When Draco appeared, she asked him to come over.

Hair mussed and dressed in sleep pants, he stepped into her living room with a worried look on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Hermione swallowed, forcing herself not to cry. "Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked in a small voice. "I just, um...I'm not okay, and I don't want to be alone."

Placing an arm around her shoulders, he led her back to her bedroom. "I can stay," he promised. He let her go long enough to pull back the blankets. When she laid down, he covered her, and began to move the desk chair to her side of the bed.

"You can't sleep on that," she said, despite his protests. Turning over, she unmade the vacant side of the bed in a silent invitation to join her.

He was hesitant to do so, but he laid down beside her. "You don't think it's improper?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head and held his hand beneath the blankets. "I'm not concerned about propriety," she told him. "I just want to sleep."

They laid together in silence, but one thought refused to let go. "Why did you call me?" he wondered. "George is just in the other room. I'm sure he would have-"

"He would have looked just like Fred," she interrupted. "Sometimes that helps, and sometimes it makes me miss Fred even more. It's hard to sleep when he's all I can think about."

"Maybe this isn't the best living situation then," he replied, fearful of hurting her feelings.

Sighing, she rolled over to face him. "It's not," she agreed. "But what other option do I have?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Hermione Granger: Pureblood Chaser_

All she needed to see was the headline. Hermione's heart began to race. Had Rita Skeeter discovered her secret relationship with Fred? If so, how had she done it? She couldn't think of a single person who knew who would run to the lying, scheming, fact twisting reporter. And then Ron's words crept into her memory, words that suggested Draco had less than savory reasons for befriending her. Only he and George knew, and George wouldn't tell.

She watched him sleep with an innocent look on his face. George left early for work; Hermione didn't fear him discovering Draco in her bed. Her hand shook as she roused him, nervous to ask if he was the leak. Draco blinked and squinted his eyes against the sun. Hermione said nothing as she handed him the paper. Sitting up, he frowned as he read the headline.

"I swear I didn't," he told her, skimming the article. "I wouldn't do that to you. You believe me, don't you? You know that I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

She nodded and sat down beside him. "I know," she whispered. "But no one else knew about Fred and me. I just can't figure out who would out us like that."

Keeping his eyes on the newspaper, he asked, "Do you think Potter and Weasley knew?"

Hermione shrugged. "I thought they didn't," she replied. "They never mentioned it to me if they did. I guess I always assumed they just weren't paying attention to me. Given that Harry is still mad at me, if he knew about Fred, he might have said something."

Draco pushed back the blankets and vacated the bed. "Mind if I throw a few hexes his way?" he asked rhetorically, knowing her answer would be to leave Harry alone. "You missed out on a year of the two of them putting you down every chance they got. It makes me sick that after everything the three of you have been through that they would do that. Why do you _not_ want to hex them?"

"Because you hex an Auror and you're shipped off to Azkaban," she said calmly. "I don't want to only get to see you on Sundays for an hour. Don't do anything that will get you in trouble. Please?"

Reluctantly, he agreed to leave them alone. "At least promise me you'll talk to Potter. See if he's the one who leaked it," he replied. "Unless you don't want to know, that is."

Sighing, she sat down. "What does it matter?" she asked. "Everyone knows now. What's the point in making a big deal about who told the _Prophet_?"

"That doesn't sound like the Hermione Granger I know and feared," he murmured, sitting beside her. "Just a year ago you would have hunted that person down and made them pay for sharing the intimate details of your personal life."

Looking down, she stared at his hand as it took hold of hers. "Things change, Draco," she replied. "_I_ changed. I told you yesterday that I don't want to fight anymore, and I meant it. It's not worth it, and really what does it matter? I'm used to seeing my name in the papers, and having it dragged through the mud. I just can't bring myself to care."

Leaning in, he kissed her temple. "I'm sorry," he whispered. She glanced up with a confused look, prompting him to explain his guilt. "I just wish you had a little more of that fire you had when we were kids. I understand why it's gone though. Everything we've been through, I think it would be hard not to change. I'm just looking forward to the day I see it again, and pray I'm not on the receiving end."

She laughed as she rested against his side. "I'm probably not going to punch you again," she promised. "Although I do admit to being guilty of kicking in my sleep. Sorry if you're bruised now."

Draco waved off her apology. "Did you sleep?" he asked. Sheepishly, she nodded. "That's all that matters then. Kick away if it means you'll be okay in the morning."

Hermione smiled. "You know, sometimes I miss the old you," she told him. "Not the mudblood calling or hexing, but the snark and sarcasm. I don't want you to think that you have to be sweet to me all the time. I'd still be your friend if you sneered once in awhile."

"Can I tease you about your hair again?" He asked, giving a loose curl a gentle pull.

"Fred used to do that," she told him. "Tug my hair. My gran would do it to relax me. I would get myself crazy about school work and activities, and she would pull me down, make me sit next to her, and say 'Hermione Jean, you're going to give yourself a heart attack one of these days.' She'd take away my book, place my head in her lap, and she would just tug on my hair. In minutes, I'd be asleep. I told Fred about it once, and he just started doing it too."

His hand stilled in her hair, and she shot him a concerned look. "I'm scared to do things that Fred did," he admitted. "Because sometimes it makes you happy, but other times it upsets you. I don't want to be the person who upsets you. Not anymore."

"You don't," she assured him. "I don't know how to explain it, but I feel better when you're around."

He wanted to be happy when she said it, but a part of Draco couldn't muster it. "I feel better when you're around too," he said instead. "Having said that, I feel like I should tell you that I have to go out of town for a few days. It's just to meet with a few of the Malfoy Group investors. Honestly, I couldn't care less if that whole business goes under. I'm really trying to get them to invest in George's shop."

Her expression was a mix of panic and disappointment, and then he asked her to go with him. "Are you sure?" she asked. Draco nodded. "Are you asking because you really want me to come along to help, or because you're concerned about leaving me alone?"

"Both," he admitted. "You're brilliant, and I know you could make a case for the investment. What you don't know is that most nights I can't sleep either, and your calls usually help. I don't know. Maybe it's selfish of me to ask you to come along, but I'd like it if you did."

She considered his offer for a moment. "Maybe getting away will do me some good," she decided. "When do we leave?"


	9. Chapter 9

If you haven't yet, make sure you check out my new story, _Memories_!

* * *

Chapter 9

Staring out at the Times Square sights, Hermione breathed a contented sigh. They had only just arrived in New York City, but she already felt calmer than she had in years. "It's so pretty," she said in awe when Draco joined her by the large window.

"No views like that living in Diagon Alley," he agreed.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

"A couple of times," he replied. "I used to come with my father when I was younger, long before the war. He hated it here. All he would do was complain about the crowds and the smells and the overly bright lights. I swear, you could read by the Times Square lights at night. We could explore it a bit tonight."

Nodding, she stepped away from the window and sat down on the bed. It had been her idea to book only one room, knowing they would wind up together come nighttime. "George isn't happy," she told him, feeling guilty. "He didn't want me to come with you."

"Why?" Draco wondered, maintaining the distance she created between them. "Does he share his younger brother's theory that I'm using you or out to hurt you?"

Hermione frowned. "No," she replied. "And there's no need to sneer at me like that. I never accused you of those things, nor do I think you would do it. And George doesn't either. I don't know what it is. He keeps telling me to move on, but then I get the feeling that he doesn't want me to be with anyone else now that Fred's gone. I think...sorry, I _know_ that he thinks there's something between us, and he's not happy about it."

Draco scoffed and turned back to the skyline. "That's ridiculous," he muttered.

"That George thinks there's something between us, or that it could possibly happen?" she inquired angrily.

He could hear it, the anger and offense in her voice. Slowly, he turned and hung his head. "Neither, both. I don't know," he replied. "I've never wanted to be friends with someone before you. And yes, I do have feelings for you, but it would be inappropriate to act on them."

"Why?" she wondered.

He looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Because you're still in love with someone else," he said. "Because he hasn't been gone that long. There's nothing wrong with that, Hermione. It's my problem because they're my feelings."

Sighing, she rose from the bed to stand in front of him. "Fred was the first boy I ever had a crush on who liked me in return," she explained. "I loved him, and a part of me always will. The logical part of me knows that I'll probably fall in love again one day. Sometimes I think that I might have feelings for you too, but then I wonder if it's because you do something he did."

"Am I going to be compared to him for the rest of my life?" Draco asked, stepping away from her.

She reached for him, but he wouldn't let her touch him. "No, Draco. I promise that's not what's happening," she replied. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. Please don't think I'm comparing the two of you."

"How do I not when every time I do something, you tell me that's what Fred used to do?" he asked.

Once more she reached for him. "I'm sorry," she said again, holding his hand. "I don't want to do it. Sometimes I just can't help myself. The other day I accidentally called George Fred. He didn't talk to me for three hours. Just locked himself in his room. Sometimes I don't realize I'm doing it. I just miss him so much, and everything reminds me of him."

Sighing, he pulled her to him and wrapped his free arm around her. "Please don't cry," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Merlin, I didn't expect this to turn into a fight. I don't want to fight, not with you."

"You know I care about you, don't you?" she asked, needing to know that he understood her feelings. He nodded quickly, and though she couldn't see it, she knew it happened. "I don't want to fight with you either. Can we just be you and me, and have a nice time together?"

Exhaling, he agreed. "I'll, uh, talk to George when we get home," he told her. "Explain to him that you and I are nothing more than friends. I would hate to cause problems between the two of you."

Smiling, she pulled away. "The old you would have loved it," she teased.

He watched as she began to unpack, putting away each carefully folded item. "The old me didn't like you," he responded. "Do you really want me to act like the old me?"

"You weren't all bad back then," she reminded him. "I do recall a time in sixth year when I had a cold, and you gave me your handkerchief. Didn't say a word, just handed it to me. The old, old you would have chastised me for disturbing class or spreading my less than desirable muggle germs. Instead, you handed it over and told me to feel better."

He followed her example and began to put his belongings away. "That was a bad year," he replied. "Sometimes I thought that if I were nice to you, you might help me. Instead I cursed people, poisoned your friend, and almost died in the men's lavatory."

"I came to see you once while you were in hospital," she shared. "I was so angry at Harry for what he'd done, and I needed to see for myself that you were okay. You were asleep, so I didn't stay long. You looked so young and innocent, and I just couldn't bring myself to believe that you would really try to kill anyone."

"I wanted to," he admitted. "I needed to do it to save my parents. When I didn't, I knew that was it, my parents would be dead. In that moment, a part of me wished Potter had killed me in that bathroom."

Tucking her suitcase beneath the bed, she sat down beside him as he continued to unpack. "I'm glad he didn't," she told him, a small smile on her lips. "And I'm glad that no one else did either."

Leaning down, he kissed her cheek. "Thanks," he murmured. "Come on, let's do something that makes us happy."


	10. Chapter 10

Happy Thanksgiving Eve! I had a dream last night that I had to miss family Thanksgiving to attend Iron Man's wedding. It was a lovely affair, in case you were wondering.

* * *

Chapter 10

They returned home with three new potential investors. George greeted Hermione when they entered the shop, and glared at Draco. "Let's talk," Draco said before George could speak. Nodding, George led him to the backroom. "Look, I want you to know that I'm not trying to make a move on Hermione, nor do I intend to hurt her. I can't replace your brother. Believe me, I know I can't. I don't want you to think that that's what I'm trying to do by being her friend."

"Why do you care what I think?" George wondered. Taken aback by the question, Draco merely stared at him. "You like her. I'm not an idiot, Malfoy. I also know that, someday, she's going to date again. As nice a guy as you seem to be, it shouldn't be you."

"Why not?" Draco asked. "Because I was a git to her when we were children? She seems to have forgiven me for it."

George shook his head and sat down. "Hasn't she been teased and tormented enough," he said. "She should be with someone who isn't going to break her heart."

Draco realized then what George was saying. "Do you want to be with her?" he asked. The redhead looked away, refusing to answer the question. "Do you really think that would work? She cried over a knut she found in her coat pocket that Fred gave her. You really think she's looking to date his twin brother?"

George looked up with pain and anger in his eyes. "No, I don't think she would," he replied. "And maybe she won't want to be with either one of us, but at least I can say I've always been good to her. I've always treated her well. Can you say the same?"

Sighing, Draco shook his head. "No, I can't," he agreed. "I haven't always treated her well. I made fun of her and hexed her a few times growing up. I'm not that little boy anymore though. She knows how I feel about her, but I'm not going to pressure her into anything. Let her make the decision. It's not up to us."

Reluctantly, George agreed. "It's...it's not that I want to date her," he said as Draco prepared to leave. "I just want to protect her. Fred made me swear that I would if anything happened to him. With him gone, I feel responsible for her."

"Good," Draco replied. "Sometimes I think she needs that. She won't admit it, but she needs someone to take care of her."

Smiling sadly, George looked down at his hands. "She does, but I think she wants that person to be you."

Try as he might, Draco couldn't hide the happiness he felt. He wanted to be the one she turned to, to be her rock and shoulder upon which to cry. That someone else saw that she wanted him, made Draco's heart swell. "You can trust me," he assured George. "I won't hurt her."

"Good," George replied. "Because if you did, I have a whole shop full of products here that I will use against you. You wouldn't believe how easy it is to train a pygmy puff to attack."

Draco chuckled uncomfortably. The door opened and Hermione poked her head in, giving the two men a questioning look. "If George sent pygmy puffs after me, you'd protect me, right?" Draco asked her.

"They have teeth?" Hermione replied.

George smirked. "I believe the answer he was looked for was 'yes,'" he joked. "Concern for his well-being would have been a close second though."

Hermione stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. "Why does he think you're going to sic pygmy puffs on him?" she inquired, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Shrugging, George told her exactly why Draco would think such a thing. "What happened to being nice to him? You said you'd give him a chance."

"I have," George said defensively. "However, I also think it's important that he knows that should he overstep his boundaries, there will be consequences."

"As much as I appreciate that, George, I can take care of myself," she stated. Taking hold of Draco's arm, she led him upstairs and disappeared behind the closed door. "Sorry about him. He means well. I'm not used to having a big brother, and he's used to being one."

Draco shrugged and sat down. "I'm fine with it," he assured her. "Believe it or not, he's not the first person to threaten me with bodily harm. I was a Death Eater, after all."

Hermione flinched, prompting him to apologize. "No, don't," she replied. "One day I'll get used to it."

"Are you ashamed to be friends with a Death Eater?" he wondered self-consciously.

Frowning, she sat beside him. "No, I'm not," she promised. "I hate that you went through it, but I like who it made you become. I just wish we could have figured out that we like each other a long time ago."

He put his arm around her, drawing her close to his side. "Better late than never, eh?" he replied.

"I guess," she murmured. "Are you going to tell me what you and George talked about?"

Laughing, he shook his head. "You know what we talked about. I told you what I was going to talk to him about," he reminded her.

"And attacking pygmy puffs came from where?" she inquired.

"Aisle four, I believe," he joked. For that comment, he received a slap to his thigh and knew she was serious. "My feelings for you may have come up, and he may have gotten a bit overprotective. You know I'm never going to give him a reason to carry out any of his threats."

She held her hand out to him, silently asking him to accept it. "I know," she murmured. "I would watch what you eat around here though, especially if George makes it. Who knows what he might slip in your food. I reported the twins to McGonagall once, and got a pudding full of nosebleed nougat for it."

"Fred allowed that?" Draco wondered.

Hermione shook her head. "He didn't know, and George claimed it was meant for Ron," she said. "He'd been giving me a hard time about not being allowed to copy my work. So, yes, it could have been for Ron, but I'm sure it was really intended for me."

"Maybe I should talk to George about sending his brother and Potter another helping of that pudding," he muttered.

She squeezed his hand and let out a small laugh. "Some things never change," she said. "Still out to put Harry and Ron in their place. I guess the difference is that now they deserve it. I'm not advocating spiking their pudding though, just for the record."

Draco shrugged. "Okay, then we won't tell you when we do it," he decided.

Sitting up, she turned to face him. "Don't do anything that will get you in trouble," she told him. Her free hand caressed his cheek as she made her next move. It was slow and hesitant, but she leaned in and closed her eyes. Their lips brushed for only a moment before she pulled back and removed her hands from him. "I, um, just...don't."

He watched with wide eyes as she stood and began to back away from him. "If I promise not to do anything to them, will you do that again?" he asked, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers.

From her hairline to the neck of her shirt, she reddened. "Maybe."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The shop hadn't been open long when Harry Potter entered. He wandered the aisles until he found Hermione near the back, stocking skiving snackboxes on the shelves. "Hey," he greeted her softly so as not to startle her.

Her head turned slowly, her eyes angry as she glared at her former friend. "Go home, Harry," she said.

"Can we talk first?" he asked.

"I have nothing to say to you," she replied.

Sighing, he sat down on the floor beside her. "Okay, then I'll talk," he decided, holding onto her arm to keep her from leaving. "I'm sorry for everything I told the papers. George explained it all to us, the reason you were gone so long and why you didn't write us. Ron was mad that you left, and I sort of got sucked into that anger too. I'm really sorry, Hermione."

Scoffing, she shook off his hand and picked up the remaining inventory. "Go home, Harry," she said again. He followed her to the counter. "I'm not going to accept your apology. I get it - _you're_ sorry. _You_ feel bad. You shouldn't have said the things you did. Friends don't do that. So, if you decided a year ago that we're not friends anymore, that's fine. Have a nice life."

"Hermione, please," he implored, reaching for her again.

"The only thing I want to know is who told the papers about Fred and me," she stated, stepping away from him.

He seemed to get the hint, and made no moves to touch her again. "Ron," he told her. "George accidentally let it slip at family dinner that the two of you were together before he died. It made Ron really mad. I guess because he had feelings for you too. It's part of the reason you left so soon, isn't it?"

Tears clouded her vision, and she wasn't sure if they were angry or sorrowful tears. "Yes, it is," she replied. "And tell Ron thanks for me. I know where we stand now. Good bye, Harry."

He watched her disappear into the back room, and knew he shouldn't have come. Turning on his heel, he walked to the front door and left. He made it a few paces past the shop when he was stopped by Draco Malfoy.

"Hermione says I'm not allowed to hit you, but believe me, Potter, I'm tempted," Draco said threateningly. "What are you even doing here?"

Harry stood tall and defiant. "I could ask you the same," he replied.

Draco stepped closer. "Funny how the tables have turned," he mused. "Now it's me she wants around, and you who's upsetting her. Personally, I've never been a fan of people hurting my friends. And Hermione is the best friend I have. I know you were never too bright, but I thought you had figured out that she's worth having in your life. My mistake though. I guess I shouldn't have expected such complicated thoughts from the likes of you and Weasley."

He moved past Harry, ready to enter the shop, but he was stopped by a hand on his arm. "I came here to apologize to her, but she didn't want to hear it," he stated.

"Can you blame her?" Draco retorted.

Releasing a short breath, Harry shook his head. "No, I guess I can't," he agreed. "I hoped she would though. I really miss her."

"Why? It's not like you've got any assignments due," Draco said bitingly. "I'm going in now. I suggest you heed her advice and leave."

Draco entered the shop without looking back. Passing the aisles, display tables, and George at the checkout counter, he entered the back room and took the stairs to the flat above. "He's still out there," Hermione stated, standing by the front window. "What did you say to him?"

Draco stood beside her, an arm around her waist. "That he doesn't deserve you," he replied. "Did he really try to apologize?"

Hermione nodded ruefully. "You know, when I first came back, I wished he would come see me," she said. "Maybe I should have made the first move though. Instead, he and Ron continued talking to reporters and putting me down. Whatever apologies they give now are worthless."

They stood together silently, watching Harry pace back and forth until George emerged. Though his back was to them, both could tell that he was angry, and Harry soon left. Turning, he looked up to find that he had an audience, and re-entered the store.

"Is he coming up here?" Draco wondered, beginning to distance himself from Hermione. They heard footsteps on the stairs, and soon the doorknob turned.

"I would say yes," Hermione mumbled.

George joined them, his face red and his hands balled into fists. "You tell me if he comes by here again," he told the pair. "I've already had a talk with my brother, let him know he's not welcome either."

Hermione moved away from Draco. "That's not necessary," she told him. "I don't want to cause problems between you and your family."

"You're not," he assured her, resting a hand on her cheek. "Ron's the one alienating everyone. Mum's fed up with him. And now Harry's telling me it was Ron who leaked your relationship. He's lucky he's not a dead man already."

"I'm more than willing to help," Draco offered.

George smirked. "Get in line, Malfoy."

"Boys," she complained. They looked at her innocently, wondering why they were being chastised. "I told you - I don't want to fight with them. If they approach me, fine. I'm more than willing to defend myself in that situation. I don't want anyone to actively seek them out in order to cause trouble. Yes, I realize that's difficult for you, George, but promise me you'll at least try."

Rolling his eyes, he agreed not to provoke his brother. "The two of you studying, or can you give me a hand downstairs?" George asked.

"Studying," Hermione said quickly. George left then, promising to return with food at noon.

Draco looked at her quizzically as her cheeks reddened. "Studying, eh?" he asked. "I just came up to see if you were okay when I saw Potter outside. I wasn't actually planning to stay."

"Oh," she replied dejectedly. "I thought you might want to. Because you, you know, like me and whatnot."

He stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her waist. "I do like you," he confirmed. "And you know I like you. However, I'm not going to allow you to manipulate me into doing whatever you want me to do. I do have a life outside of you, Granger."

Leaning up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his in a gentle, chaste kiss. "Ten minutes?" she asked. Chuckling, Draco shook his head. Once more she kissed him. "Twenty?"

"You're really bad at negotiating," he remarked.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Fine, half an hour."

He guided her away from himself and walked to the door. "I'll be back later," he promised. "Are you sure you're okay though?"

"Better now that I saw you."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The flat was empty when Molly Weasley stepped out of the fireplace. For the first time, the living room was neat and tidy, and she knew it had to be the work of Hermione. Knowing there would be no interruption from the flat's occupants, Molly had a look around. It had been years since she last visited, having only ever been there to help her sons move in. Things were just as they had been the last time - the same furniture, the same placement, the same decorations. She surveyed the framed photos on the mantel, but stopped short when she came across a picture of Hermione and Fred.

"Mum, hi," George greeted her, surprised to find his mother milling around his living room.

Molly turned to him with tears in her eyes. "Sorry, sweetheart," she said, drying her eyes. "I didn't mean to snoop. I just saw the photo, and-"

"It's fine," he assured her, looking at the same picture she was. "Did you know? I know Fr...he was keeping their relationship a secret, but we never managed to keep secrets from you."

She shook her head sadly. "No, I honestly didn't know," she replied. "I wish I had. I always wondered what made him so happy, and what changed when Harry, Ron, and Hermione left. The way he would sit alone with that journal. I never could quite understand what was wrong."

"You didn't think he was worried about his little brother?" George asked with a soft laugh.

Realizing what she had said, Molly blushed. "No, I'm sure he was," she amended. "But this was more than concern for Ron. It was the way one acts when they're worried about someone they really love. I didn't think at the time that it was Hermione he was in love with. Worrying about Ronald was a full time job. I don't think I ever stopped to consider what you kids were going through. All that mattered was that you were with me."

George wrapped his arms around his mother and held her tight. "I'm sorry, Mum," he murmured, his voice breaking as he attempted to hold in his own tears. "I'm sorry he didn't tell you. I'm sorry he's not here. I'm sorry that Hermione coming home has reopened all these wounds."

"It's not her fault," Molly said authoritatively as she stared up at him. "Don't you dare put the blame on her the way Harry and Ronald have."

Sighing, he pulled away and crammed his hands into his pockets. "I don't," he replied. "I never have. It helps, you know, having her around. I remember his laugh more, and that smile he would give her. It was like seeing a different Fred when they were together. They were really happy together, Mum. Having her here makes it feel like a piece of Fred is back."

Molly smiled sadly. "Could I see her?" she asked. "I just want her to know that she's still a part of this family."

George tensed. "Um, she's not here right now," he replied. "She, uh, well, you've seen the papers. She and Malfoy have been making nice since she got back, and they're spending the day together."

Hand in hand, Draco and Hermione entered the Hogsmeade shop. The small storefront, the former home of Zonko's joke shop, was still in disrepair and in need of a good cleaning. "It's a disaster," he declared, covering his mouth so he wouldn't breathe in the dust.

Letting go of his hand, she began to mill around. "I don't know. I think it's perfect," she replied. "It just needs some tidying up, a bit of work here and there. It's no worse than the Diagon Alley shop before the twins opened it. Now that we've got some money to back us, we could have this place turned around in a month. A few swishes and flicks and all the dust will be gone. Come on, the glass is half full."

Draco chuckled, amused by her enthusiasm. "Okay, glass half full. How do I do that?" he asked.

Smiling, she took him by the hand and gave him the grand tour of the shop as she envisioned it. She told him where each product would go, how the shelves would be designed, what decorations would adorn which walls. "It's exciting, don't you think?" she asked. "We get to build this all from scratch."

"And by scratch, you mean magic, I hope," he replied apprehensively.

"Afraid you'll break a nail?" she teased.

Looking away, he shook his head. "No, it's just daunting," he said. "You may not know this about me, but I'm not exactly used to having to work. Don't get me wrong - I want to do this. It's just a little overwhelming."

"You've got me," she reminded him. "You're not doing this alone."

"Does that mean I can kick back because you've got it all covered?" he asked. "I know you've got everything planned out already. You're really just using me for my wand."

Hermione shrugged before wrapping her arms around his waist. "Well that, and I like to look at you," she murmured.

Sighing, he tipped his head down and brushed his lips across hers. "Are we really doing this?" he wondered, a hint of awe in his voice.

Hermione nodded, a grin on her lips. "Yeah, we're really opening our own joke shop," she replied.

Frowning, Draco pulled away, much to her confusion. She reached for him, but he wouldn't allow it. "That wasn't what I meant," he muttered. Standing by the old cash register, he pressed the buttons that no longer worked. "I don't care about the shop. I only agreed to help because it meant being with you. You know how I feel, and I was starting to believe that you were beginning to feel the same way about me."

"I do," she insisted. "Draco, please believe me. I do have feelings for you. You have to know that I care about you."

Sighing, he shook his head. "I thought I did," he admitted. "Look, I don't want to fight, so I think I'm just going to go home. I'll call later."

She watched wordlessly as he Apparated away from her. Slowly, she followed suit, and returned to her flat. "Mum was here to see you," George told her.

But Hermione didn't hear him. "I think I just ruined everything with Draco."


	13. Chapter 13

I had a dream last night that Len Goodman told me I'd never win Dancing With The Stars because of my deformed elbow. I woke up in a really bad mood because of that.

* * *

Chapter 13

Draco nervously stepped into Hermione and George's flat. He was sure she had told him about their fight, and knew George would likely take her side. He was walking into the lion's den, and he was the bait. Slowly, he made his way downstairs to the workshop. George was bent over something small and fuzzy, and Draco immediately began to panic.

"Don't worry," George said without looking up. "It can't hurt you. In fact, this little guy can't do much of anything. Poor Reginald. Ginny's going to be crushed. There's no saving him. Are you looking for Hermione?"

Draco nodded. "I guess, that is, if she'll see me," he replied with a lack of confidence uncharacteristic of a Malfoy.

"Ah, yes. The fight," George remarked. "She seems to think it's all her fault."

Draco blanched. "It wasn't," he said. "I think maybe I overreacted to something she didn't realize she was saying, and I-"

"We're not fourth year girls, Malfoy," George interrupted. "I don't know what the two of you fought about, and I don't want to know. I told her the same thing. If you want to apologize, she's upstairs in her room."

Nodding, he climbed the stairs slowly, stopping in front of the closed door. Taking a deep breath, he let himself into George and Hermione's flat and made his way to her bedroom. Softly, he knocked on the door and waited for it to open. "Hi," she greeted him, startled by his presence.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," Draco said, staring down at his shoes.

Hermione stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her. "Don't be," she replied. "I, uh, I didn't think before I spoke. Honestly, I didn't realize you were talking about us, and I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings."

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I should have expected you to think I was talking about the store," he said. "We were _in_ the store, after all. I meant it when I said I don't want to fight with you."

"You do believe me though, don't you?" she asked worriedly. "You know that I have feelings for you."

Draco nodded. "I do," he affirmed. "Sometimes I think I forget that you're still grieving Fred. I just...we hated each other for so long, and now that we're finally in a good place, I'm ruining it."

Hermione smiled as she opened her door and led him into her room. "You're not ruining anything," she said, sitting down on her bed. "Honestly, I was afraid that I was. Fred and I were so young when we started dating. I thought we would get married some day. When we broke up, I knew that was it. He was so hurt and angry, and I knew that even though I was doing it for the right reasons, it was over. I planned to make things right after the war, but never got the chance."

"Do you still feel guilty?" Draco asked.

Sighing, she shook her head. "George always tells me that Fred would want me to be happy, and I am," she replied. "You've made me happy, Draco, and I was afraid I might never feel happy again."

Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and parted his lips with the tip of her tongue. Feeling brave, Draco deepened the kiss for the first time. "I really like doing that," he confessed, his cheeks red when he pulled away.

"I really like when you do that," she agreed. "So, um, now that we've made up, do you think this is the right time to discuss what this is? You and me, I mean. You know, what we are."

He smiled lovingly as she stumbled over her words. "Well, I know what _I_ want us to be," he replied. "I want to hear it from you first though."

Her cheeks darkened as she looked away from him. "Draco, are you my boyfriend?" she asked. "Because that's what I want."

"It's what I want too," he told her.

Hermione grinned and kissed him. "Okay, so what now?" she wondered. "I mean, with Fred, he just walked me back to Ginny's room. He did put fizzing whizbees in my oatmeal the next morning though. One last prank, I guess. But you're not the prankster type, and it's still only morning. So, what now?"

Shrugging, he leaned back on his hands. "I'm hungry," he said. Despite the roll of her eyes, Hermione suggested they get breakfast. Hand in hand, they left the joke shop for the Leaky Cauldron. They chose a table near the back, secluded from the early morning crowded. Their hands never parted as they studied a menu. "Pancakes or waffles?" he asked.

"Both," Hermione decided. "I'll give you a waffle if you give me a pancake."

"Deal," he replied, signalling that they were ready to order. Their orders arrived shortly after they placed them, but their food would soon go cold.

"Well, Harry. Look at this," Ron Weasley said, standing in front of their table. Harry stood behind him, looking less willing to go along with whatever plan Ron had concocted. "Dating the ferret now, are you? What's the matter? Couldn't find anyone else who'd want you?"

Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "That's enough," he said.

Ron shook the hand away. "No, it's not. You go from Fred, who teased you, to Malfoy, who tried to kill you," he continued.

"That never happened," Hermione interjected defensively. "As I recall, it was Goyle who cast that curse. Draco had already lowered his wand. And Fred was nicer to me that you usually were. At least I knew he wasn't using me for classwork."

"No, but I'm sure he had other uses for you," Ron replied nastily.

This time Harry grabbed Ron's arm tightly. "I said enough," he repeated. "Get out, and leave them alone." Harry personally escorted Ron out before returning to their table.

"Thank you, Potter," Draco said.

Harry nodded and turned his attention to Hermione. "Are you...are you okay?" he asked, brow furrowing with concern.

She ignored his question and turned to Draco. "Can we just go home?" she asked.

Nodding, he paid for their untouched food and attempted to take her hand, but she refused. Harry stopped him as Draco passed. "I'll make sure she's okay," Draco promised. He followed her outside and walked several paces behind her as she returned to the joke shop. They went upstairs and he watched as she searched for something to eat.

"Do you know what I don't understand," she said, finding leftover Chinese food in the refrigerator. "Worm holes."

"Hermione," he said, taking the food from her hands. "Talk to me about this."

She frowned as he kept the food out of her reach. "The worm holes?" she asked.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Weasley," he clarified. "We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't," she replied. "This is supposed to be a good day, Draco. Talking about Ron, even _thinking_ about Ron, only ruins it. So, no, we're not discussing what happened this morning. What he said doesn't matter. All that matters is what we think of us."

"Are you sure?" he asked, handing her the container.

She nodded. "Yes, you're all that matters to me," she assured him.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

George and Hermione sat in front of the television, happy for a quiet night at home. "This is nice," he decided as he sipped his tea. "We don't spend enough time together anymore. You really need to be less busy so you can tend to my needs."

"I don't see that happening any time soon," she replied sadly, patting his leg. "Once school is done, there's a new store to open and run. We might never see each other again. You, my friend, might need to get a girlfriend. Or you could move back in with your mum. She'd give you all the attention your heart desires."

Scowling, he shook his head. "I'd have to live with Ron again," he muttered. "Don't think Draco didn't tell me what happened the other day. I'm not the only person who's told my brother to stay away from you. Thick head."

"I understand his anger," Hermione admitted. "I don't think I've been as good a friend to them as I thought I was."

George scoffed. "Why? Because you didn't tell them about Fred?" he asked. "Did Ron consult you when he started snogging Lavender Brown for all to see? The two of you had your reasons for keeping your relationship a secret, and Ron doesn't deserve an explanation."

"I did leave for a year without talking to them," she reminded him.

Shaking his head, George got to his feet. "And if they'd done the same thing, they'd be mad if you demanded answers," he countered. "Face it, Hermione, they don't care about your feelings. They don't care that you're happy, or that you and Draco are in a good place. They care only about themselves. They didn't have to talk to the papers about you. Sure, they were asked, but a simple 'no comment' would have sufficed. Don't defend them. You weren't here, I was. I know that they don't deserve it. They don't deserve you. You need to belong to a new trio? Done. You've got Draco and me."

Hermione grinned as she rose to hug him. "Can I confiscate your broom and whack you over the head with the newspaper when you're being obstinate?" she asked.

Smiling, he reciprocated the embrace. "Can you? You smacked me with the paper this morning," he reminded her.

"I hate slurping," she muttered, feeling a chill race down her spine at the very thought of it.

His grin grew wider. "I know. That's why I do it," he replied.

Pulling away, she swatted his arm and returned to the sofa. "Why were you so quick to forgive Draco?" she wondered.

"I wasn't," he admitted, taking a seat beside her. "I didn't trust him, and I didn't like the idea of him being around you. But then I started watching him, and I watched you too. You were happy, more like your old self, around him. That was enough for me. What about you? Same question."

"Desperation," she joked. "I don't know. I came home and he was the first person there. He was different, and...I don't know how to explain it. I just liked him. I understand why Harry and Ron were upset. It's not that I've forgotten how Draco treated us, it's just that I've managed to forgive him for it."

Looping an arm around her shoulders, George kissed her temple. "From what Draco's said, Harry seems like he's beginning to come around," he remarked. "Think you could forgive him like you did Draco?"

"I thought you didn't want me to," she replied.

"Since when do you do what I want you to do?" he countered.

Hermione chuckled. "Good point," she mumbled. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I could. He did chuck your brother out of the Leaky that morning. I didn't think he was really sorry when he came to apologize, but maybe he was. Do you think I should hear him out?"

"Yeah, I do," he replied. "I also think you should leave Draco at home. Do this one on your own, but do it because you want to do it."

That night, Hermione sent Harry a note asking him to meet her for coffee the next morning. She barely slept that night, wondering if he would show and how their conversation would go. When the sun rose, she dragged herself out of bed, showered, dressed, and left the shop to wander Diagon Alley. The air had grown chilly as the winter months approached, and she regretted not drying her hair before leaving.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Harry called to her from the front steps of the Leaky Cauldron.

Turning, she smiled at him. "I was a bit anxious," she admitted. "What's your excuse for being up so early?"

Harry shrugged. "Nightmares," he reluctantly answered. She nodded empathetically. Most nights, nightmares kept her awake as well. "Dumbledore this time. What I can't understand is why he's always holding socks when I dream about him."

They entered the pub, finding it empty so early in the morning, and ordered coffee. "I, um, I'm glad you agreed to meet me," she said nervously as they sat down. "A lot has happened between us over the years, and I know we've fought in the past. I would just hate to think that this is it, that we're over."

Shaking his head, he reached across the table for her hand. "I understand why you left," he told her. "Hell, I tried to leave too. I never should have said anything to those reporters. Sometimes I forget to think when I'm mad."

"Like the time you called me a buck-toothed know-it-all when I turned in your broom to Professor McGonagall," she reminded him.

Harry blushed. "You, uh, you heard that?" he asked. "I didn't mean it, you know."

"Did you mean what you told the papers?" she wondered. "Did you mean it when you said I was a horrible friend, or that I should have stayed away?"

He shook his head, seemingly remorseful for what had transpired between them. "No, and I never should have said it," he replied. "I didn't know where you'd gone or what you were doing, but it was your choice not to tell me. I should have respected the decision you made. I just wish I could have helped somehow. You stuck by me through everything. It would have been nice to be there for you for once."

"I could have told you," she agreed. "It might have been good to have someone with me. Losing Fred though, and then my parents, it was too much. Being alone was easier. I got it into my head that if I were alone, I couldn't get hurt. And then Draco came along."

Harry smiled. "You really like him, don't you."

"I really do," she replied. "So, um, do you think we could be friends again?"

He sipped his coffee, considering his next question. "What's Malfoy going to think about us being friends?" he wondered.

Hermione sighed and looked away. "I think when it comes to certain people, he has a hard time forgiving," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He, um, we're in a really good place right now, and he doesn't do well with people who hurt me."

"I swear to you, Hermione, I'm done hurting you."


	15. Chapter 15

It's Friday! Also, Delia's has a 50% off sale sitewide, so go there! Who has two thumbs and bought two pairs of shoes for the price one? This guy...er, girl.

* * *

Chapter 15

"I have an idea," Draco mumbled as he tiredly stepped into Hermione's flat. Once again, nightmares plagued her sleep, and she had called him. Slipping her arm through his, she led him back to her bedroom. "We should just live together."

Hermione climbed into bed and cuddled beside him. "You want to live here?" she asked incredulously. "Do you think George would mind?"

Sighing, he sat up and surveyed the room. "No, I don't mean here," he replied. "I don't know that I could live in your ex-boyfriend's bedroom. I meant we, and by we I mean you and I, find a place of our own. You said you didn't think this was the best place for you to live, and I spend almost all of my free time here anyway. Why not find a flat together?"

"What about George though?" she wondered. "I can't leave him. He'd be all alone here."

"He understands that you're not going to stay here forever," Draco replied, lying down once more. "The other day we were talking, and he said he assumed you'd move into the flat above the Hogsmeade shop."

Dark brows rose in surprise. "The two of you were talking?" she asked. "Where was I?"

"I don't know. Having breakfast with Potter, perhaps," he replied, knowing that it wasn't the right time to start an unavoidable fight. "A breakfast you didn't tell me about. One that took place three days ago."

Reaching over to the nightstand, she turned on the light and sat up. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't know how to tell you. We just talked for a bit, that's all. Please don't be mad."

"Which part should I not be mad about?" he inquired. "The part where you kept this from me, or the part about the two of you chumming it up again?"

She sighed as she considered the question. "Both," she answered. "I had every intention of telling you, but I was afraid of this. You're the last person in the world I want to fight with. Please don't let this ruin anything."

Sitting up, he let out a deep breath. "You know how I feel about Potter and Weasley," he said. "My feelings towards them haven't changed all that much in the last eight years. The only difference is that they're now justified. They hurt you, they upset you. Do you really think I'm okay with you befriending Potter again? What if he pulls something like this again? What if he gets mad at you for...something, and he starts treating you poorly again? I love you, Hermione, and I can't stand to think that someone you consider a friend would hurt you."

Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Hermione couldn't help but smile. "You love me?" she asked.

Frowning, he turned to face her and nodded his head. "Yes, I do," he confirmed. "But that's not the point."

"I know," she murmured, holding his hand. "The point is I should have told you sooner."

But Draco refuted that, squeezing her hand. "No, you can do whatever you want," he told her. "I don't want to be the kind of boyfriend who makes you think you need to run everything by me. I trust you, Hermione, but I also worry about you."

She looped her free arm around his neck, holding him in a close embrace. "I love you too," she whispered in his ear. "I promise I'll be careful when it comes to Harry."

Breathing a sigh of relief, he returned the hug. "Good," he murmured. "Okay, can we go to sleep now? No more arguing?"

They laid down once more, never letting go of one another. "I can't believe you love me," she said with a girlish laugh.

"Why's that so hard to believe?" he wondered.

"Because a year ago you hated me," she replied. "Or I thought you did, at least. It's been a long time since someone's told me that they love me. I really like hearing it."

Leaning over, he kissed her tenderly. "I like saying it," he murmured. "I too like hearing it though."

Hermione giggled as he covered her body with his. "I love you, Draco."

The mantra repeated as he kissed her several more times until George banged on their shared wall and told them to go to sleep. "See," Draco said with a laugh. "This is why we need our own place."

A part of her wanted to agree, but concern for George stopped her. "Maybe if it were someplace close by," she suggested.

"Or he's a wizard who can floo or Apparate in whenever he wants," Draco retorted. "The flat above the Hogsmeade shop has a fireplace. He's a part owner of the place. He's more than welcome to come by."

"Could you really live someplace so small?" she wondered.

He smoothed the hair back from her face. "If you're there, I can," he replied. "I just want to be with you."

Hermione grinned as she promised that that was what she wanted too. They fell asleep in each other's arms, making it through the night nightmare-free. Waking first, Hermione carefully extricated herself from Draco's hold and left her bedroom. She found George seated at the kitchen table with a sour expression on his face.

"You're leaving," he said pointedly.

Hermione stopped. "How much did you hear?" she asked.

"Everything," he replied. "Is it true?"

Sighing, she sat down across from him. "It's something we've talked about, but no concrete decision has been made," she told him. "And if we do decide to move in together, I promise to give you plenty of notice."

Scowling, George shook his head. "I don't want you to think that you have to take my feelings into consideration," he stated. "If this is something you want, then you should do it. You know I'd never stand in your way."

"I know," she replied with a small, albeit sad, smile. "I just hate the idea of leaving you."

"Don't," he said. "I'm a big boy. I've learned a thing or two about taking care of myself. Besides, I heard Malfoy say I can visit whenever I want, and since you're the one who can cook, I'll be over daily."

Hermione smiled. "I'm okay with that," she said.

Draco exited the bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What's okay?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

"The two of you living together," George replied.

"Oh good. I was afraid we wouldn't get your permission," Draco joked, rising to pour himself a cup of coffee. George eyed him with a smirk on his lips. "Seriously though, I know Hermione was worried. I'm glad you're okay with it."

George nodded solemnly. "I trust you, Draco," he said. "I know you'll take care of her. Besides, no one needs a third wheel hanging about all the time."

Hermione stood and rounded the table, hugging George from behind. "You're not a third wheel," she assured him, kissing his cheek. "You're an important member of this trio."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"This place is a dump," Harry declared. Hermione had enlisted his help in moving her belongings from George's flat to the one above the Hogsmeade shop. "You really think Malfoy is going to live here?"

Hermione shrugged as she used her wand to paint the walls a soft blue. "This was his idea," she replied. "Besides, once we fix it up, you'll never be able to tell that it was in such bad shape before. George gave me a spell to create carpets, you know. That was Draco's only stipulation. He said it gets too cold here not to have carpeting. I have to agree. His feet are always so cold. I'd hate to think of him walking on hardwood floors come winter time. They'll be like icicles."

Harry began to paint the kitchen. "You know, I'm glad you asked me to help," he replied, "but discussing Malfoy's feet is a bit much for me. In fact, if the two of you are doing anything more than shaking hands, I don't want to know about it."

"Is that a euphemism?" she asked, watching him squirm. "You know, like knocking boots."

"You're disgusting," Harry replied with a chuckle. "I think you've lived with George too long. No, that wasn't meant to be something sexual. Shaking hands is just shaking hands."

Hermione finished her task before moving on to the bedroom. "Have you talked to Ron?" she asked. "Does he know we're speaking again?"

Harry followed her in and took a seat on the floor. "No, he doesn't," he said. "We're, uh, not really talking right now. Ginny's not speaking to me either."

Setting down her wand, Hermione sat in front of him. "George said it was only Ron who was unhappy that I came home," she murmured, feeling guilty that she may have ruined Harry's relationship. "Is that not true?"

Sighing, he leaned back, placing his weight on his hands. "We've been having problems for awhile now," he admitted. "George might not have known, but she sort of sided with Ron and me when we were angry with you. Now that you and I are better, Ginny's mad at me for not siding with her brother."

"I'm sorry, Harry," she replied, touching his hand.

There was a sad smile on his face. "It's not your fault," he assured her. "She'll come around. She always does. And if she doesn't...well, I'm sure there's someone else out there who likes me."

"I'm sure there's someone out there just waiting for you to pay her any attention," she replied. "You'll find someone deserving of you. If I can be frank, I never thought Ginny was right for you. I don't think it's because she liked having the attention of the Boy Who Lived. It's just...I don't know. Maybe that is what I think her reasons for being with you were."

Harry laughed at her befuddled response. "Sometimes I wondered the same thing," he confessed. "Although, to be fair, I've thought that about any girl who's expressed interest in me. Except for you. I've always know that you liked me just for me."

Hermione shrugged, looking down at the paint splatter on her shoe. "You've always been like a brother to me," she said. "It didn't matter to me that you were the Chosen One. Back then, all I wanted was a friend. Everything else was...everything else."

Harry nodded, but didn't continue. Draco stood in the doorway listening to their conversation. "Not trying to put the moves on my girlfriend, are you, Potter?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Hermione turned her head, and dreaded the anger etched on Draco's face. "We were just talking," she promised, getting to her feet. She walked to him and placed her hands on his waist. "Nothing to worry about."

He eyed Harry as he leaned down to kiss her, satisfied when he looked away. "I brought over some furniture that my mother planned to get rid of," he told her. "She said we could have it. Come take a look."

Hermione nodded and began to leave with him, but then Harry spoke up, asking Draco to stay behind for a moment. Reluctant though she was to leave them alone, both men assured her it would be fine. Harry got to his feet, but kept his distance from the blond still in the doorway.

"We don't like each other, you and me," Harry stated. "I don't know that we ever will, but Hermione wants to be friends again. We've hurt her enough these last eight years. Please don't let our animosity hurt her further."

Stunned, Draco nodded. "I, uh, I hadn't considered that," he mumbled. "I think a little civility is in order here, Potter."

Slowly, Harry moved forward and extended his hand, breathing a small sigh of relief when Draco accepted it. "I'm not going to hurt her," he promised.

Hermione appeared behind Draco and smiled. "Not putting the moves on my boyfriend, are you, Potter?" she asked. Laughing, Harry shook his head. "So, what's going on then?"

"We're, uh, ya know, not friends or anything," Harry replied, letting go of Draco's hand. "We just, ya know, decided to be nicer. To each other, I mean. Although, I don't think it would kill us to just be nicer in general."

"This doesn't mean I'm going to start being nice to Weasley though," Draco stated.

Harry's brow furrowed. "I thought you and George were friends," he said.

Hermione laughed while Draco tried not to smile. "Smart ass," he muttered before walking away.

Hermione shot her friend one last look, receiving a mischievous grin in return, before she followed Draco to the living room. When Harry joined them they were in the middle of a discussion on furniture placement. "I think I'm going to take off," he announced. "Call if you need help with anything. Malfoy, it's always interesting to see you."

When they were alone, Draco turned to Hermione. "So, what was the talk about?" he inquired.

"How pretty you are," she replied as she moved each piece of furniture into place. "I can't believe your mother gave us all of this. Does she still hate me? Are there charms on it that will cause all of my hair to fall out, or burn me every time I sit down?"

Taking her hand, he pulled her down to sit beside him on the plush sofa. "No, no spells," he promised. "I checked before bringing everything over. And she doesn't hate you. She likes that you make me happy. After everything that's happened the last few years, I don't think it matters to her how I find that happiness. She's asked to meet you."

Hermione stiffened by his side. "I can't do that," she murmured. "I can't go back to that house."

He placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Okay, you don't have to," he replied, his voice soft and soothing. "When we finish fixing this place up, she can come here. It'll be her opportunity to tell us what we've done wrong with the decorating, and try to convince us that a flat above a joke shop just isn't an appropriate place to live."

"It's better than the alternative," she replied.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Why isn't your father coming?" Hermione asked as she checked on the roast.

Draco shrugged as he set the table. "Don't know," he replied. "It might be because I haven't exactly told him how serious we are. I mean, he knows from the papers, but we haven't been front page news in awhile, so he doesn't really know. You're going to yell at me now, aren't you?"

Hermione chuckled. She was relieved that Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be joining them. He was often curt and cold, and extremely set in his ways. The last person Lucius would want dating his son was Hermione. She appreciated the reprieve for the time being. "Why do you always assume I'm going to yell at you?" she wondered.

Draco shrugged and joined her by the oven. "There's a precedence for it," he replied calmly. "I make fun of Hagrid, you slap me. I make fun of a Weasley, you scold me. I pick on you about your wild, unruly, completely unmanageable hair, and you lock me out of our room. Precedence, Granger."

"Honestly? I'd rather not endure the wrath of your father finding out about us," she confessed. "I know he's bound to eventually, and it will probably be worse the longer it's kept from him. I'm still not entirely convinced that your mother is okay with this, but maybe she's a bit more receptive than he is. Plus, your mother is a bit less scary than your father."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close. "You haven't seen her when you accidentally set fire to thousand year old drapes. Medusa, I tell you," he replied, making her laugh. "You have nothing to worry about though. She's promised to be on her best behavior."

Sighing, she nodded. "She was a Slytherin though," Hermione pointed out as she pulled away from him. "How can you be sure she's telling the truth?"

Smirking, he kissed her cheek. "Guess you won't know until the evening's over," he replied, leaving the kitchen. His mother arrived as he straightened up the living room. "Mum, good to see you," he greeted her, embracing for only a few short moments.

Narcissa Malfoy, proud and regal, surveyed the room with icy blue eyes. "It's rather small, isn't it?" she asked.

"But homey," Draco added. "Small isn't bad. It's just the two of us. Well, George is over pretty often, but usually it's just us. It's nice living here."

"Nicer than home?" his mother inquired, slipping her arm through his.

Draco rolled his eyes as he escorted her to the kitchen. "This is home now, Mum," he told her. "It's different from the Manor. Nothing bad has happened here. Not like..."

Narcissa patted her son's hand. "I know," she murmured as they entered the kitchen.

"Mum, you remember Hermione, I assume," Draco said, catching his girlfriend's attention. "I swear, she hasn't left this room at all today. Insisted the meal had to be perfect."

"Mrs. Malfoy, it's nice to see you again," Hermione said, unsure how else to greet her. She looked to Draco for some cue, but he shrugged.

Letting go of his mother's arm, he passed Hermione under the pretense of getting Narcissa a drink. "Just don't curtsy," he whispered to his girlfriend, receiving a quick elbow jab to the ribs. "Abuser."

"Big baby," Hermione retorted, smiling at him. "So, um, Mrs. Malfoy, is pot roast alright? It's my mother's recipe. She would make one whenever it snowed. I don't know if it'll be as good as hers. This is my third attempt."

Narcissa smiled. "Well, practice makes perfect," she replied.

"Today, Mum," Draco said, handing her a glass of water. "It's the third one today. The other two burned. One literally caught fire. We still haven't figured out how that happened. Hermione's fairly certain this one won't combust."

Giving her son's ear a tug, Narcissa chuckled softly. "Be nice. She is preparing your food, after all," she chided.

Draco smiled at his mother. "Don't give her any ideas," he muttered. "She once set a teacher on fire as a first year. Poisoning my dinner would be child's play."

Hermione grabbed his arm as he began to escort his mother back to the living room. "You know I'd never hurt you," she told him. "I need you too much."

Leaning down, he kissed her. "I need you too," he told her. "More than I'll ever be able to let you know."

Hermione smiled as he began to walk away. "I know," she whispered.

Dinner passed without incident. The conversation was pleasant, and Hermione began to relax as Draco brought out a pie for dessert. "So, how is the joke shop coming along?" Narcissa inquired as he served her a slice of chocolate pie.

"Slowly," Draco admitted, licking chocolate pudding from his finger. "Professor McGonagall scheduled our N.E.W.T.s for just after Christmas, so that's been the priority. Once that's done though, we'll be able to focus on the shop. There's not as much of a concern about the opening of this one as there was the Diagon Alley shop. The Hogwarts kids will have plenty of opportunity to visit during the year."

"And you need to take your N.E.W.T.s to be a shop owner?" Narcissa asked.

Hermione cleared her throat. "No, but it doesn't hurt to have them," she stated. "There's no guarantee that the store will be a success, or that it'll remain open for as long as we hope. A little back up never hurt anyone."

Narcissa smirked. "That's smart thinking," she commended the younger witch.

"What else do you expect from the brightest witch of our age," Draco retorted. "Smart thinking is what she does. You Know Who would be ruling the world if it wasn't for Hermione's smart thinking."

Narcissa's blue eyes widened. "I didn't mean to offend either one of you," she explained.

Hermione gave Draco's shin a swift kick beneath the table. "I didn't think you were," she assured his mother. From the corner of her eye, she caught the scowl Draco wore. Abruptly, he stood and excused himself, slamming the bedroom door shut after entering. "What in the world?"

"He and his father had a bit of a fight," Narcissa told her. "He told him that he doesn't approve of the choices he's making, and that it's disgraceful for a Malfoy to...do the things he's doing."

"But Draco said that Mr. Malfoy didn't know," Hermione replied.

Shaking her head, Narcissa spoke. "Lucius knows, and Draco knows that he does. They're not exactly on speaking terms now."

"I didn't know," Hermione murmured.

Nodding, Narcissa rose from the table, and Hermione followed. "I should be going," she said. "I think I've done enough damage for one night."

Hermione escorted her to the fireplace. When Narcissa was gone, she made her way to the bedroom she shared with Draco. "Your mother left," she told him. He kept his back to her and shrugged. Rounding the bed, she sat down beside him and took his hand. "Will you tell me why you're upset?"

"She told you. Didn't she?" he asked. "The real reason my father didn't come tonight is because he disapproves of my life and my choices. He hates that I'm with you. He hates that I've gone into business with a Weasley. He hates that I'm going to sully the Malfoy name. I guess it didn't occur to him that he did that, getting involved with You Know Who. I just...what she said to you-"

"She didn't mean anything by it," Hermione assured him. "And I took no offense to what she said. I honestly don't believe that your mother feels the same way your father does. She wouldn't have come tonight if she did."

He scoffed. "Sure, she would have," he replied. "To tell me how I've screwed up, how I've done everything wrong."

Her hold on his hand loosened. "Do you really believe that you've done something wrong?" she wondered, hurt by his insinuation.

His expression softened. "God, no. Hermione, I swear you're what I want," he promised. "I'm sorry for making you think that I felt any other way. I've spent my whole life being told by my parents that nothing I do is good enough. When my father got out of Azkaban before the war, do you know what he said to me? He called me a screw-up and a disgrace for not killing Dumbledore myself."

Leaning in, she kissed him softly. "I don't think you're a screw-up or a disgrace," she told him. "I think you're sweet and kind, and the love of my life."

A small smile touched his lips. "You're opinion of me is the only one I care about."


	18. Chapter 18

Two days til Christmas! Despite my advancing age, I'm still a 5 year old when it comes to Christmas. The family is doing an ornament Secret Santa. I've got $10 that says I get some sort of book ornament.

* * *

Chapter 18

News of Harry and Ginny's break up dominated _The Daily Prophet_ for a week. With the announcement came rumors and speculation. Why had they broken up? Who would they date next? Had one cheated on the other? Was this _really_ the end? It annoyed Harry to be back in the spotlight as he tried to live a private, normal life. He entered the Hogsmeade shop, his mood foul. Hermione, George, and Draco stood around the check out counter, unaware that Harry was there. As he neared, he overheard their conversation.

"It's because of me," Hermione said sadly.

"No, it isn't," George replied. "It's Ron and Ginny's fault. They made him choose, and then got mad when he chose you. If anyone's to blame, it's them."

Draco spotted Harry first and cleared his throat. The other two quickly stopped talking and put away the newspaper. "It's fine," Harry assured them. "It's not the first time I've made headlines."

"That doesn't make it right though," Draco said, patting his back. "Who do you think it is Ginny thinks you've slept with?"

George's face took on an angry, red hue. "Hermione," Harry told them before turning to the only Weasley in the group. "I take it you knew that?"

The redhead nodded. "Ginny's been suggesting it for awhile," he shared. "Well, not a while. Just since the two of you started talking again. She said that if you could keep your relationship with Fred a secret while leading on Ron, you'd surely do the same to Harry and Draco. It took a great deal of restraint not to hex her."

Draco scowled, his lips pursed in disgust. "Where'd she get the idea that you cheated anyhow?" he inquired.

Sighing, Harry shook his head. "No idea," he replied. "I swear, I've never cheated on her. I never even looked at other women."

"It's just the way she is," George interjected. "She feels slighted, so she starts making up stories. We wouldn't let her play Quidditch with us when she was younger, so she told Mum that Fred tossed her off his broom. It never happened. Fred was trying to protect her, and instead she got him grounded."

Draco scoffed. "Some sister," he muttered, receiving a nod from George in agreement. "So, what are you going to do now?"

Harry shrugged. "Forget about it, I guess," he replied. "I'm not going to start calling her names and making wild allegations just to get back at her. It's not worth it. Honestly, I don't care enough to be upset over it."

George patted Harry on the back. "That's the right attitude," he declared. "So, we're now all alienated from members of my family. Does this mean we're expanding into a quartet?"

"Here I thought it was only Hermione who had forgiven me," Harry remarked, concerned by her silence.

Draco shrugged. "I'm getting there," he promised.

While the men talked, Hermione quietly slipped away. Returning to the flat above the shop, she sat down on the sofa and shut her eyes. Once again, she had ruined things. When they had been on the run, Harry often talked about marrying Ginny and starting a family. His one dream in life had been a family. Her coming home had put an end to that dream.

The couch cushion shifted beside her. "Why'd you sneak off?" George asked, wiping his thumb across her cheek.

It was then that she realized she was crying. "It's my fault," she told him. "Harry and Ginny - it's my fault. It's my fault that you're not speaking to your brother. It's my fault that Harry's lost the only good family he's ever had. Draco's not speaking to his parents because of me. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't come back."

A comforting arm looped around her shoulder. "This isn't you, Hermione," he said softly. "I know you deserve to be human, and it's okay to cry, but sometimes I miss the girl who would tell everyone to piss off."

Hermione chuckled. "I've never in my life said that," she replied.

"It was implied," he stated. "The point I was trying to make is this - you need to stop worrying so much. You know that movie you made Draco and me watch? The one about the guy who wishes he'd never been born? Don't be George Bailey, Hermione. You coming home is the best thing that's happened to me, and I'm pretty sure Draco would say the same. You're not to blame."

She rested her head on her friend's shoulder. "I don't deserve you," she murmured.

George frowned. "Why would you think that?" he wondered. "You're family. Anyone my brother loved is family. Fred loved you more than anyone else in the world. When you came home, I got a piece of my brother back. Of course we deserve each other. You'll never be able to shake me, Granger."

Smiling, she kissed his cheek. They sat in silence for a few moments before she asked, "Did you leave Harry and Draco alone?"

He stiffened. "I did," he confirmed. "I haven't heard any screams, so I'm guessing they haven't killed one another. We should probably go back downstairs though, just to be sure."

Nodding, she stood and followed him back to the shop. Draco frowned when he saw her, and pulled her into a loving embrace. "You okay?" he asked her softly.

"I'm good," she replied with a smile. "You and Harry are both still in one piece. Is it safe to assume the two of you are getting along?"

"We actually were," he told her.

George smirked. "I guess this is your, what, third helping of crow?" he joked.

"I can admit that I was wrong about all of you," Draco said defensively, though he tried to conceal a mischievous smile. "If you're willing to admit the same about me."

Harry and George exchanged a brief glance. "I'm pretty sure you're still a git," George decided. "Who brings caviar to movie night?"

Draco shrugged. "No one told me what 'movie night' was," he retorted.

"Well, I'm deeply offended that I'm not invited to movie night," Harry interjected. "I love movies, and Hermione, despite her upbringing, always has the best snacks."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as her boys bickered. This was what she wanted and loved. Draco, George, and Harry made her happy, and the friendship that had formed amongst the boys only added to her joy. It made her believe that perhaps she hadn't ruined everything by coming home.

She had lost one family due to the war, but she had found another.


	19. Chapter 19

Happy snow day! I like weeks when I only have to work one day. This is something I could get used to.

* * *

Chapter 19

Christmas was approaching, and Draco had only one idea in mind. As he and Harry shopped in Diagon Alley, his eyes kept catching the jewelry store. "Let's go in," he suggested. Harry eyed him wryly, but followed him inside.

"These pendants are nice," Harry said as he surveyed a case of necklaces. "My aunt asked me to come to Christmas dinner. Merlin, I can't remember the last time I spent a holiday with them. I haven't seen them in about two years."

"Think you'll go?" Draco asked as he looked at engagement rings.

Harry shrugged as he joined him. "Isn't it a bit soon to be looking at these?" he wondered. When Draco didn't reply, Harry continued. "I don't know if I'll go. It's nice that she's finally reaching out, but I don't know if it's too little, too late. You won't be surprised to learn that Hermione thinks I should go."

Draco smiled. "I'm sure she had a very convincing argument about the importance of family," he remarked. "She thinks I should spend some time with my parents too. I can't leave her alone on Christmas though. Her first Christmas back home should be special."

"Is that why we're looking at engagement rings?" Harry inquired.

The top of the blond's ears reddened, and he felt his cheeks warm. "Do, uh, do you have any objections to me asking her to marry me?" he asked.

"No, I don't," was Harry's honest reply. "After everything that's happened, everything I did to her, I just want her to be happy. You seem to have figured out how to make her happy again. I think you'd be a fool not to ask her."

They exited the shop with a ring in Draco's pocket. "So, we're doing this thing Hermione calls an orphan Christmas," he said casually. "I know you've got that invitation from your aunt, but it would mean the world to Hermione if you stopped by. Her goal is to make me stay in my pajamas for an entire day. She called it tradition. I call it torture."

Harry chuckled. "It's a Granger family tradition," he confirmed. "That and cinnamon rolls. Make sure she makes the cinnamon rolls. She can't cook worth a damn, but those cinnamon rolls are the closest thing you'll get to heaven on earth. One bite, and you'll forget that you're not wearing a three piece suit to sit in front of the telly. Is George going to be there, or am I the third wheel?"

"He's coming," Draco promised. "Mrs. Weasley isn't happy, but I don't think he cares. He's made it pretty clear to his family that Hermione comes first."

"Jealous?" Harry wondered.

But he wasn't. "Well, not anymore," he replied. "They had a history, and I didn't fit into it. Sure, we had a history too, but not one that I'm proud of. Honestly, I thought she would have taken up with him instead of me."

Harry shook his head as they entered the Leaky Cauldron to warm themselves by the fire. "After what happened to Fred, I'm not surprised she hasn't," he commented. "I don't think I could stand the constant reminder. Besides, can you imagine kissing someone when you've already snogged their family member?"

Draco shuddered at the thought. "I don't know that I can stomach the idea of kissing any of the Weasleys," he replied, ordering two warm butterbeers. "Still not speaking to them?"

Sighing, Harry confirmed that he wasn't, and had no intentions of doing so in the future. "Ginny made it pretty clear that I wasn't welcome anymore," he said sadly. Draco apologized softly as their drinks arrived. "Don't be. I think George is right when he says Hermione should come first. She's stood by me through thick and thin, nearly died for me more times than I can count. I don't think I ever appreciated it enough back then. I want her to know now that I do."

"She knows," Draco assured him. "One thing I've learned from her is not to dwell on what's happened in the past. She's pretty quick to forgive the people she loves. Look at how much she's forgiven me for. I would be completely alone now if she hadn't."

"You'd still have your parents," Harry pointed out, to which Draco replied with a scoff. "Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best example. Plus, I'd wager my vault that you're a lot happier with her than with your family."

Draco nodded. He couldn't remember being happy before Hermione. She had made life better, given him a purpose, and he loved her for it. "Do you think she'll say yes?" he wondered, toying with the small black box tucked safely in his pocket.

"Well, I think she'll cry first," Harry decided, sipping his beverage. "But yeah, she'll say yes. Have you thought about when you'll ask?"

It was Christmas morning, just before sunrise, and Draco was wide awake. His heart pounded in his chest as he anticipated the day. Today was the day he would propose. Today was the day Hermione would agree to be his wife. If only he could summon the courage to ask.

The bed shifted beside him and cold hands touched his bare stomach. Draco hissed at the new sensation. "Sorry," a sleepy voice murmured. "I didn't realize they were that cold."

He placed his hands over the chilly digits to warm them. "You're okay," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "What time are Harry and George coming over?"

"Eight," she mumbled, knowing he didn't approve of her desire to start the day early.

Instead of groaning, he nodded and released a soft breath, letting his eyes close momentarily. When he opened them, he pushed back the blankets and got out of bed. "Merlin, it's freezing. Did we leave a window open?" he complained, pulling his robe tightly around his body. Grabbing the nearest wand (Hermione's) he cast warming charms around the bedroom.

Amused, Hermione watched as he left the room, muttering the charm as he went. When he returned, he joined her in bed, but kept one hand suspiciously concealed in his robe pocket. "What's that you have there?" she inquired, trying to peek beneath the covers.

"Nothing, just really happy to see you," he teased. "Could you stop fussing about? I have something for you."

"Does this thing have anything to do with you being happy to see me?" she asked, sitting up.

He laughed at her innuendo and shrugged. "I don't know. I think it does, but not the way you're thinking," he replied. "Believe it or not, I'm always happy to see you. Today though - now - I'm especially happy to see you. I've been thinking a lot about what to get you for Christmas, and there was one idea that I kept coming back to. It's sort of a gift for me too, I guess, because it would mean I get to keep you forever."

Hermione's brows furrowed as he removed the ring from his pocket. "Are...are you sure?" she asked, shocked and in awe of the beautiful engagement ring.

Sitting up, he took her left hand and slowly slipped the ring to the first knuckle. "Positive," he promised, kissing away the wrinkles between her eyebrows. "I love you, Hermione Granger, and I want you to be my wife. Do, um, can I be your husband?"

With tears in her eyes, she nodded. "Yes, yes you can."


	20. Chapter 20

Last chapter before the epilogue!

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Chapter 20

"Something's different," George said when he entered the flat. He sniffed the air, ignoring the very present ring on Hermione's finger. "It smells really good in here."

"Yes, that's the difference," Harry deadpanned. "It has nothing to do with the rock Hermione's wearing."

George stopped, looked down, and stared. "Merlin's beard," he exclaimed softly. "When did that happen?"

"This morning," Hermione said with a blush. "He told me you gave your blessing."

George nodded. Draco had not yet bought the ring when he asked George for permission to propose to Hermione. Though hesitant, he gave it. He had found it difficult to accept that Hermione had finally found true love again after Fred's death, but he was glad she had. Draco had been just as good to her as his twin brother had.

"I just didn't know he would be asking so soon," he replied. "Where is he? I should say congratulations."

She informed him that her fiance was in the shower, but something bothered her. Asking George to join her in the kitchen, she asked, "Is something wrong? Are you mad?"

Frowning, he shook his head. "No, never," he promised. "I'm thrilled for the two of you. I just-"

"It should have been Fred," she guessed.

With a reluctant nod, George agreed. "I'm sorry," he murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I just always thought it would be Fred. I think, maybe, I'm still having a hard time accepting that you've moved on. That's not a bad thing. Please don't think I meant it that way. I've just never been good with change."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I thought it would be Fred too," she admitted. "He, um, he gave me a promise ring just after the shop opened. He said he was saving up to get me a proper engagement ring. I found it in his pocket the night he died."

"Did you keep it?" George wondered, red brows furrowing. "It wasn't with his belongings."

"I did," she confirmed. "It wasn't that I was afraid of everyone finding out. Or maybe I was, I don't know. I just wanted that to remain between us. Draco knows about it. He found it in my jewelry box."

"As long as he's okay with it, I guess," George mumbled. "I didn't know about it. I didn't know he was going to propose. He talked about the two of you getting back together, but he never mentioned buying you a ring."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sorry," she whispered. It had never occurred to her that, despite Fred's ability to keep their relationship from his family, he would also keep things from his brother.

George shook his head and smiled. "Don't be," he replied. "You're happy, right? That's all that matters. Now, will you tell me what smells so damn good?"

Chuckling, she opened the oven to reveal the baking cinnamon rolls she would serve following presents. They rejoined Harry and Draco in the living room, though the pair seemed not to notice them. "Oh, go on," Hermione said as they eyed the gifts beneath the tree. The three men soon began to tear into the wrapping paper, scattering it around the room while she hung back.

When every last box and parcel was opened and the boys tidied up the living room, breakfast was served. "I guess we don't have to ask Hermione what her favorite gift was," Harry commented around a mouthful of food.

"That was a nice encyclopedia I got her," George added. "That was probably the best. Better than spectacles that change color with her mood. She doesn't even wear glasses!"

"That was your idea," Harry retorted. "Besides, it was-"

"Enough," Draco interjected. "Stop fighting, or I'm taking away breakfast from the both of you. Besides, how could either one of you possibly top mine? Did you see that oven timer I bought her?"

Hermione giggled, enjoying her Christmas morning. So far, it had shaped up to be a perfect day, and she hoped that feeling would extend into the evening. It had been so long since she had enjoyed Christmas, spending the last one alone and the previous on the run. Surrounded by her new family was the right way to spend the day.

"Love?" Draco asked, interrupted her thoughts. "Are you alright? You've been fairly quiet while we bicker. It's not like you to let us go on this long."

She shrugged and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's Christmas. I can forgive it this once," she replied. "And no, I will not be weighing in on which gift was the best. I loved them all."

George rolled his eyes and guffawed. "That's such a mum answer," he complained. "Mothers give that answer to their children. Friends choose."

Deciding to give in, she rose to her feet and began to clean off the table. "Well, only one of you gave me a diamond," she said pointedly, eyeing George and Harry. "I think fiances win over friends."

"We had that one coming," Harry decided, joining her by the kitchen sink.

Hermione kissed his cheek as she washed the dishes. "It doesn't mean I love you any less," she assured him.

Harry turned back to his friends. "That's definitely a mum answer," he said.

"Wait," George said, any hint of humor gone. "If Mione's the mum, and she's marrying Draco, does that make him the dad? Because I can't handle that."

Draco's chest puffed. "If I'm the dad, that means the two of you are on clean up while Hermione takes a rest," he stated. Rising, he shut off the faucet and led his fiancee out of the kitchen. Together, they sat down on the sofa and watched George and Harry clean the kitchen. "This has been a good day so far."

"Good enough that you haven't thought about getting dressed?" she asked.

He sighed contentedly. "Good enough that I haven't even thought about leaving this couch," he replied. "Have you had a good morning?"

Nodding, she cuddled against his side. "Really good," she assured him. "I love being with the three of you. I love being home. I love being right here with you."

"Do you think you'll feel that way fifty years from now?" he asked.

Smiling, she kissed him. "I know I will."


	21. Chapter 21

The last chapter, so sad :( Thanks for sticking with me!

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Epilogue

"Why the hell would they invite us on their vacation?" George wondered as he lugged his bags through the hallway of a beach-side hotel.

Harry shrugged and set his luggage down beside the door to their room. "Draco's paying. I'm not complaining," he stated. They stared in awe of the suite they entered. A large, lavish living room connected to an eat-in kitchen, and beyond that were three bedrooms. "Three. Do you think they're staying with us?"

"Leave it to Draco to take the cheap route," George replied. "Doesn't like us enough to get us our own rooms."

"Quit complaining," Draco said as he came in from the balcony. "Just enjoy the suite while we're here. How often do the two of you sorry sots get invited to Hawaii on someone else's galleon?"

The two men exchanged a quick look before George said, "Never."

"Where's Hermione?" Harry wondered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shopping," he replied. "She found a bookstore."

"So, we'll see her in about six hours," George muttered, making himself comfortable in front of the television.

Two hours later, Hermione returned to the hotel with her arms full of shopping bags. "They're asleep," she said, astounded to find only her fiance awake. Draco rose from the couch and took the bags from her. "I take it you didn't tell them why we invited them here?"

Setting the purchases down on their bed, Draco shook his head. "I thought you'd want to do that together," he replied. "I'm guessing, by all of this, that you were successful."

She hung a white dress bag in the closet. "Quite," she said with a smile. "You're sure you're okay with Harry being your best man? I know you and George are closer, but I'd really like him to be my...what is it if you're a man? Man of Honor?"

"It's fine," he assured her. "Harry and I are close, as well. As long as they're both there, It doesn't matter who stands beside me. The only person I care about being there is you."

The next day, George walked along the beach with Hermione. "So, I have this feeling that this isn't just some holiday we're on," George said.

"What makes you think that?" Hermione wondered, digging her toes into the sand.

The redhead looked down at the new shirt she had bought him. "You made us get dressed up to walk on the beach. You're wearing a white dress. Draco's up there with Harry and a minister," he stated, ticking each example off on his fingers. "Are you getting married?"

Blushing, she nodded. "We, um, wanted something small and private," she explained. "I'm sorry to surprise you with this. I know you and Harry wouldn't have said anything, but we didn't want it getting out. The mob of reporters was bad enough when they found out we were engaged."

Smiling, he cupped her cheek. "I understand," he replied. "So, am I your maid of honor, or something?"

"I was hoping you would be," she said.

"It would be my honor," he replied, bowing to her before offering his arm. "Do I get to walk you down the aisle as well?"

"I hadn't thought about that," she admitted. "We don't exactly have an aisle."

He looked around and smiled. "The whole beach is an aisle," he pointed out. "So, are you ready to become a Malfoy? Can we start calling you Mrs. Ferret?"

Hermione laughed as they walked toward Draco. "No, you can't," she stated. "And no more calling him a ferret either. Don't think I don't know that you and Harry do that behind my back. I know all."

"Plus Draco told you," he added with a laugh. Smirking, she nodded. "So, are you ready to do this?"

She caught Draco's eye and grinned. "Yes, I am," she said confidently. It felt like hours had passed by the time they reached her fiance. She let go of George's arm and took Draco's hand. "Is it bad that my cheeks already hurt from smiling?"

He laughed softly. "Mine do too," he told her. "Ready to get married?"

"I've been ready since Christmas," she replied. Hand in hand, they turned to face the minister, who began the ceremony. With Harry and George present to serve as their witnesses, they exchanged vows and rings. When they were pronounced husband and wife, Hermione was immediately swept into Draco's arms and his lips were on hers. A small crowd had gathered to watch, and cheered as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. Turning, they offered their audience a small wave before walking away. "I wasn't expecting a crowd."

"You can't get married on a beach in broad daylight without drawing a crowd," Harry replied. "So, what now?"

"Now the honeymoon begins," Draco informed them. "The room is yours until the end of the week. Enjoy your vacation, boys. We're going to Italy."

"We'll be home in two weeks. All of our contact information is in the room," Hermione told them.

Harry smiled. "Ever the mum," he said, kissing her cheek. "Go enjoy being married."

Hermione returned his smile with one of her own before moving on to George. "You look sad," she murmured, noticing the unshed tears in his eyes.

The redhead shook his head. "I'm not," he promised. "You look beautiful and radiant, and I'm so happy for you. I also told Draco that I'd break his legs if he hurts you, so I think he finally fears me."

"About time," she joked. "I'm glad you were here. I know this was hard for you."

"No, watching you two snog is hard for me. Watching you snog anyone is hard for me," he replied. "Watching you be happy is pretty easy. You're happy, right?"

Hermione grinned as she glanced at her husband. "Happier than I've been in a long time."

The End


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